I am still uncomfortable. With this whole dual-culture thing. Or is it duel culture. The fight is too hard (heart-wise) and I'm not certain that it's worth it.
I'm listening to a wonderful programme about Patrick Kavanagh, undoubtedly, irrevocably Irish. And I think even if he were transplanted to Australia, to France to wherever, love of the 'other' would still leave him Irish. I do not feel this certainty in my 'original' roots.
That's the only thing I currently find difficult about living here with P and B (That and not being able to walk around naked). Essentially I am the odd one out, not through any fault of their understand, but at the end of the day, we're different in pretty essential ways.

I should sort myself out and write about the trip across the big brown land, if not about the days spent in Canberra, as they were rather unpleasant. But the drive was amazing. And I did it in the
most wonderful car to touch bitumen :-)

Today is all work and little play (although I did wash the car) but tomorrow is the Big Day Out. "I'll meet you at the pie, the pie!"

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