Not so long ago, I was the proud owner of the building above and partner in a goats farm in Suffolk. Yes, this is me, farmer me. Béa of The Goats.
I loved the farmer's life and yet four years ago, I left it. I left of my own accord. I needed to explore other worlds, have other adventures
Why is it then that this morning, as the goats were moved out of Skylark for the last time and the farm was sold, I burst into tears and felt bereft?
Because, it is gone. For good, for forever. I will never be able to get back there ever again. Because, and I hope you get that, it is gone.
O yes, I know, I happily live in Ireland now. I have a wonderful life as a storyteller but you see, I reckoned that if things went wrong, I could always get back there. Be that Béa once again.
I could still change my mind and change the story.
And now, I cannot! It's over. I'll never be able to get back there because THERE IS NO THERE LEFT TO GO BACK TO.
Then something weird happened as I was walking away my tears this morning.
I saw a woman climbing the hill towards me.
There she was, Béa of the Goats, Béatrice of Suffolk. Behind her were Isis, Lola Lou, Elen and Brigit, her best girls. They were coming home to Glenmore. My Boy Milou was overjoyed. He likes company.
Because, you see, when a story ends, it means another story is about to start.
Watch this space!
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