This post isn’t like my normal blogs, so if you’d prefer to shut this down, move on and wait for the next travel update then that’s perfectly fine.  No offense taken.

This is simply more of a contemplation on my imminent 50^th birthday, which will be celebrated somewhere in County Kerry.  Fifty is one of those ages, it’s not old, but I’m also not young anymore. However, fifty certainly marks a significant place in the passage of life. I also don’t particularly feel the need to celebrate this landmark birthday with something unique; much in the same way I spent my 49^th birthday, I’m more than content to spend it on the road with my wife and my dog.

Essentially a birthday is just another orbit of the sun.

But, with the landmark age and a looming return to Australia I have been reflecting on myself rather self-indulgently.  Ireland has helped because I was here on a trip I’ve alluded to in a previous post, I was a young man back then, mid-twenties and fresh off the plane from Australia. That young guy, who stayed on after his trip to work in Dublin somewhere around 1999-2000, would never believe he’d still be living in England 25 years later.

I travelled to the UK on a Right of Abode, which meant I could stay for ten years, it didn’t seem realistic, but there was an option of a British passport after four years and dual nationalities seemed an appealing option at the time.

Life is life and I met Kerry, we travelled, fell in love, got married, bought a house and then dealt with life events that were beyond our control. Before you know and I’ve spent more time in the UK than I have the country of my birth.

I had my childhood and upbringing in Australia but that second phase of life, growing into a mature adult, was totally dominated by life in the UK.  And if I’m being honest, it’s changed me and given me a fresh perspective that I would never have found at home.

There is no real point to this post, I’m just writing, but in these days, where we outsource so much of our humanness to AI, I thought I’d try and express some of the sentiments that have been swirling around my head and clouding my thoughts.

I used to be envious of those people who knew what they wanted to do in life from an early age,  and went on to achieve it.  For all of my fifty years I’ve had no clue what I would like to do or if I wanted to achieve anything.  I knew I liked to travel and I’ve picked up some hobbies along the way that bring some artistic individuality and also great pleasure.

It was only late last year that the thought popped into my head that maybe I’m already doing the thing I should be doing.  There would be no great achievements for me and that drifting along, experiencing new things, with no real plan… but happy, was the most I could hope to achieve in life.

The thought came from nowhere, like it wasn’t really mine in the first place, but it made sense and with time to travel and reflect on where I’ve been, experience and a landmark birthday has helped me realise the destination isn’t always the important thing.