Tomorrow it will be seven weeks since I relocated to Hawai’i with my wife, Julia and our children, Phoebe and James. Already I’m noticing some “strange things are happening” (as Randy Newman once put it!)
There are zeeeeebras there as we climb the stairs of the school to which Phoebe attends with her friends, who are a wonderful eclectic mixture of people originating from all over the place.
And there are tomaytoes growing down there on the way to the church where it is commented that I am acclimating well, which of course pronounced ac-cla-mat-ing on my new island home.
All along I thought that I was acclimatising well, which would really be acclimatizing, if I put it the way that the locals do, which I do, with the help of a spell check or two.
But at least I’m finding my feet in the usual way, except, not you see, as there are changes afoot there as well if you’ll pardon the pun.
Those feet are now naked in church, during service time at least, but not to worry, there is still an alb and stole found on the priest, or the pastor, or the preacher, or teacher, or the Reverend, or Father, or Associate or other such name that I’m honored or honoured to be called.
So there are changes afoot as you can see, and I’ll hope you agree, despite this atrocious poetry parody, that in seven weeks much can change, to a greater or lesser degree.
You may even find me now in khaki.*
*Khaki is pronounced down-under as “car-key”… I’m still struggling to say it in the American vernacular. Blessings from Hawai’i.