Well, after the whole flight missing commotion ( which was not entirely my fault) that set me back for a job, I found myself settling into a nice, warm, food abundant cowherd boy service at a Hare Krishna temple in Belgium. Luckily, my pursuit to catch the plane from Brussels at least took me as far as Luxembourg. Anywho, things started running smoothly and falling together as a nice ruraly themed jigsaw puzzle when BAM!!! an email had arrived. The question it posed was on one hand a grand second oppurtunity and on the other a tad unsettling. My jigsaw was nearly completed and it seemed as if someone waited until the most inappropriate moment to bump into it. However, what I hadn’t realized was that I had simply recieved more pieces.
The first one for me to inspect was receiving the job again, but with a twist that spelled E-n-g-l-a-n-d. Instead of going to my belowed Ireland I would now find myself on another island, a different currency and another indistinguishable accent. The first stop – Manchester. It now began to vaguely unravel why the missed flight was a must. Not only did I realize how much I actually like Ireland, but the Belgian temple had provided me with enough English contacts and some extra unforseen money that had enabled me to start my endeavour as smoohly as possible while taking into account the shaky financial legs I tried standing on. Once again I got the feeling that Calendar club and destiny walk in front of me, hand in hand with a massive plough of good will that makes way for my desires to be fulfilled. Therefore, England.