My laptop likes to remind me of Camelot. My screensaver pulls images green and mild (and dark and stormy, and fun and frivolous, and sweet and savory) to flaunt on the small screen that might as well be the illuminated dome of my brain. Any time I go quiet for more than five minutes, there it is: Camelot.
It has been eight months since we left the UK. Six months since we settled in Hawaii. The contrast is shocking. There are no more days of darkness. No matter how I miss places, people, castles, or crumpets, I can not miss that darkness. And for all I dream sadly of my lost English roses, every day I wake to plumeria and hibiscus.
Hawaii isn’t perfect. It isn’t paradise. No one likes to believe this. No one likes to hear that the dream holiday destination has an underbelly of unbelievable poverty, corruption, waste, and unsustainability. And yet …
… Hawaii is that boy with the dazzling daydream blue eyes and tousled hair who smiles at you and short circuits your brain.
What was I saying? Something about Hawaii being paradise, right?
I still listen to BBC radio. I still make a proper brew. I will even, sometimes, still have beans on toast for my tea. But I’m doing it in my bathing suit and I’ll be heading to the beach in a few minutes. I’m not blogging as I was in Camelot. There is so much less to say here, and it seems unimportant when the trade winds are blowing and I can get free parking two steps from my favorite stretch of sand. But I do toss up occasional photos at bluemoonhawaii.wordpress.com, and I’d be happy to see you there.