What a nightmare! On March 2nd I was supposed to go on holiday for a week. The plan was to fly into Dublin, take a bus down to Cork and take part in the annual Ireland Sacred Harp convention along with a hundred other shape not singers from all across Europe and the US. Sadly winter decided to be nasty and covered Ireland in snow and snowstorms. As a result the airport was closed and the flight cancelled. The next available flight would have been on March 4th in the evening – when the convention was over. So with a tear in my eye, I cancelled the entire trip (as did my friends who were joining me for the Sacred Harp convention).
I think this quote from T.S. Eliot fits perfectly when I think about ‚home‘, or more precisely, ‚Heimat‘. Because ‚home‘ can be everywhere I have lived for some time, home is my flat, the town I am living in right now. Home is the place I come back to after work. But ‚Heimat‘ is the place I was born, the town or village I grew up in.
I’ve once again been to Volkspark Rehberge. Instead of the yellow autumn light I encountered at the last visit, the park was now covered by a wintery snowy blanket. People enjoyed a walk in this winter wonderland, went for a jog, let their dogs play happily in the fluffy snow or enjoyed a sledging down that marvellous hill that’s perfect for this activity.