Farewell to my Canterbury existence

My time in Canterbury is coming to an end. I shall look upon my Cathedral City adventure with a warm heart and a giggle; forgetting the awkward moments, arguments, sore knees and visa troubles. Instead, I'll look back in fondness at two and a half months of new situations, learning and life experience in a beautiful city in Kent, the south-east of England...

I will miss waking up to a perfect view of the Cathedral in the morning, and drawing the curtains to the gloriously-lit building at night; walking out of the garden through the private gate into the cloisters and bumping into several tourists looking confused, "She's not the Archdeacon!", all shops and the little library in walking distance; the cobbly streets (especially Pound Lane: the knee-wounding scene) and corner cafes; the tradition and astounding history.
I will long for Maureen's happy voice on a Monday morning and her "hey hos" when she has had a bad day, her caring nature; Andrea's "see you just nows" and short conversations on my way up and down the stairs; Peggy's silly comments about my Oxford accent (couldn't be more far from the truth) and interesting stories from a time gone by; deep meaningful political chatter with Sheila and Derek and the cats at 9pm.

I will have to get used to not hearing the bells calling for the morning service at 7:45 and for evensong at 17:15; not seeing Carl, Colin and Ray for a chat and a gossip on my way out to town; no soup every day for lunch, no Ocado orders and hopefully no more failed cake-baking. I may feel a little lost for a while, having been part of something for so long.

I have learnt a great deal in my weeks at 29 The Precincts, from gluing legs onto a horse to the ins and outs of the National Health System; that crumpets and poached eggs go perfectly together; have been driven through Fordwich, apparently the smallest town in England; have a much-improved knowledge of both World Wars; and have had the honour of sitting in the second row at the Easter Day service at Canterbury Cathedral.

Now, new routines will have to be learnt, new relationships begun, new roads and routes memorised. At the same time, the world awaits with more of life to be experienced. Eleanor Roosevelt expressed long ago what I and many others feel today, "I could not, at any age, be content to take my place by the fireside and simply look on. Life is meant to be lived. Curiosity must be kept alive. One must never, for whatever reason, turn his back on life". I will live...