I've been "home" - back to the UK - for the past week, just a flying visit mostly on business but with the intention to pack in a few personal things. Some of those were a bit dutiful, like seeing my Mum, and Mother-in-law, while others were indulgent, like having a bath in my own bath, in my own house. And being in the rain. I've tried many, many times to explain to my friends and others from the UK, how I miss rain. Nobody understands.But when you've been in drought-bound California for 9 months, where the restaurants have stopped giving glasses of water automatically and asking you to request it especially "because of the drought", then believe me, you will miss rain. After 9 months of brown, dried earth you begin to look at pictures of British countryside and think it has been digitally enhanced to look that good. You really do doubt it can be that green. And you remember going out in the rain, feeling it wash into your face, seeing it clean your world, feeling it refreshing your spirit. You think about the times when you were sheltering from the rain, but enjoyed watching it from your chosen haven.
So when I turned up at Tuesday night's runclub, fresh off the plane and with my Californian tan still glowing, it was sheeting down with a venom that I loved. I got my trainers properly dirty for the fist time despite having them for 6 months. I splashed through the mud, enjoying the rain, the grass, the damp feel on my skin and the crunch and sloosh of the wet trail. I had a great night, catching up with everybody and settling into my rightful place, finding my natural running group. Terrific.
But, the best part of the whole week was the arranged night out with a few friends. Beer and curry. I've not had a proper British curry since I went out to San Francisco, and I was looking forward to it, and the proper draught bitter, and the proper British friends. Proper - sadly there isn't enough of life that is "proper", but when something is proper then it is worth rejoicing in. So to say that I was in a good frame of mind on Saturday night is something of an understatement, but it still doesn't excuse my actions. Maybe I've been around too many Americans for too long, but I was excited, excitable, and demonstrative with it - an inexcusable combination back home! When Carolyn arrived I jumped up with glee, but I think I got away with it. Unfortunately when I saw Chris coming down the road I couldn't contain myself: I leapt up and ran towards him like a kid greeting his Dad. You don't do that to Chris. He's proper all right, a proper bloke in general, so he doesn't do that sort of stuff. I can best describe him by narrating the discussion we had over email when he became Chairman of the run club. He's accepted that role because he wants to contribute, wants to help people, and wants to help the club. Proper. But his biggest challenge will be diplomacy. Chris has a simple view on life. He's there to help, to provide the means for you to achieve, but if you have a problem with any of his methods or his style, he's not about to change it. I suggested to him that his approach might be a bit too blunt for some in the club and he agreed that his "if you don't like it you can fuck off" style might need some adjustment. but his heart is absolutely in the right place and he'll be great for the club. So, there I am running down the street bubbling over with joy at being back home, and Chris saw me coming: "I don't do man-hugs!" he shouted at me, and started looking for an escape route, but I was committed. I amended the hug to a hearty handshake just in time, but I know he was embarrassed. Sorry Chris. Great night though.
