Look, what is done cannot be now amended:

Home.  Staring out the self-same window at the darkening sky and the beautiful wispy clouds blowing from left to right across the harbour.

Back from the almost-postponed pilgrimage to my sweet Thames, some Limerick streets, and hallowed football stadia of old.  Nothing work-related in the interim arose, so it was as well, and no harm done by the escape.  As always the familiar trappings of favourite haunts invoked a nostalgic air, so it was apt indeed to be reminded of the line from Jacques at the British Museum that drove his unique melancholic outlook: "...the sundry's contemplation of my travels, in which my often rumination wraps me in a most humorous sadness."

And so it is with thee, walking in the same footprints down old pathways so decorated by memories of the recent past and options not pursued.  As good a way as any of marking time and the evolution of perspective within the mind.  How overwhelming it would be if things were such that you could encounter earlier (or later?) versions of yourself along the water's edge and stop for momentary conversation...

But there was new experience too - the twittering of away tickets for Manchester, the depressing inevitability of the result despite the vocal urging to the contrary, and the sameness of the night's end despite the different city and hostel dorm.  To the acquisition of tickets in the (recreated Scion) Kop from friendly scousers as easy as you like, and the brief but real sense of participating in the history of yesterday and tomorrow.  (And how tiring it was at that, on account of the many pints.)

Add in, of course, the historic victory in the presidential election, seen again from foreign shores.  Nice not to be disappointed in that regard, and good to mark the occasion in something of a memorable fashion.  Loved the use of the endearing "honey" and "sweetheart" from the North Carolina girl who you shall never see again, and it remains to be seen whether you develop the pictures from the stolen disposable camera. 
 
Then to the Apollo for Richard, important mostly to ensure that the perfect Twelfth Night ticket was secured, and then Ireland to relearn again lessons you should already know.  How tiring vacuous conversation can be, and how strange are the rituals such as the overcrowded dancing at Nancy's.  Would have been great to have bought that painting from its walls to bring back, but alas, "Stormy Seas" is not destined to hang on this side of the Atlantic.

Recapping all this demonstrates the eventful nature of a short span of days well spent.  An enjoyable, entertaining, frustrating afternoon at the Away Boyz and the Emirates wowing the spirit once again, as did the ridiculousness of Nando's and Hackney and cigars and the Dolphin with Coop's old crush.  Another lengthy assault on the body that recovered just in time for one of the finest theatrical experiences of them all, on stage at the Apollo for a divine Twelfth Night that will live long in the soul.  I look forward to reading what can only be rapturous reviews. 

All of which is to say - a success.  And timely to think upon what might be next, given the conversation about the recent application this morning that was not unexpected and may offer some ideal opportunities if you would but seize them.  More consideration required before writing that up, although the random thoughts bouncing around have already led to a registration of interest with the CBA IDC Resource Bank.  Who can say if anything may follow?

As this has run on longer than intended, best to close, catch the ferry and wonder further about career choices and such other momentous decisions made as ever on a whim.  I think I know the way this wind is blowing, and surely it is for the best.  So to sign off with a new quote about an old friend.  I love making such discoveries... here's hoping that the next time it is made among sweet company as well:

They were soon launched on the princely bosom of the broad Thames, upon which the sun now shone forth in all its splendour.

"There are two things scarce matched in the universe," said Walter to Blount--"the sun in heaven, and the Thames on the earth."

"The one will light us to Greenwich well enough," said Blount, "and the other would take us there a little faster if it were ebb-tide."

"And this is all thou thinkest--all thou carest--all thou deemest the use of the King of Elements and the King of Rivers--to guide three such poor caitiffs as thyself, and me, and Tracy, upon an idle journey of courtly ceremony!"

- Sir Walter Scott, Kenilworth