A friend of mine once told me there was nothing left for him in Great Britain, that it was sucking the very happiness from his core. He despised the food, resented the excessive cost of simply surviving, and dreaded the heavy blanket of grey weather that would undoubtedly cast a weary shadow over the whole nation throughout the year.
I probably don’t need to tell you that it wasn’t too long before he spread his wings and flew the UK nest. Backpack slung over his shoulders, for the next year he travelled from coast to coast, before finally settling down and pounding his weathered flag into Greek soil.
His outlook was simple: Enjoy life to the fullest by taking advantage of any opportunity that crossed your path. He did just that, landing a reasonable job in the construction industry, and setting up home with what some would argue to be a Greek goddess (or so the Polaroids suggested).
For some time, things were going great. Every week I’d find my inbox cluttered with the latest snapshots he’d taken of the Acropolis, of the Parthenon and of himself, scaling sandy shores with his arm draped around his girl. But gradually this would die down, and soon the emails he sent began to take on an entirely different theme.
“Peanut butter!” He said, “And Marmite... I can’t find them anywhere out here, send me some will you?” And wanting to play the good citizen with a bleeding heart, I did. I piled high a hamper full of British foodstuff – Marmite, HP brown sauce, Peanut butter, you name it – and sent it packing some five hundred miles across Europe.
But it didn’t stop there. “I’m going crazy!” He told me, “Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve read a book?” And so began a succession of small parcels flying out from the UK to Greece, a book here, a DVD there. But even this didn’t solve his home-comfort-crisis.
“It’s costing me waaay to much to carry on having things shipped over.” - His email read, though he wasn’t quite ready to go on living without those luxurious commodities which were so unfamiliar in Greek territory. But as ever, I offered up what was going to be a very affordable solution.
“Wire me some money every eight weeks or so” I told him, “and I’ll have a courier send it all in one go, that way you’ll only be paying for a shipment once instead of every time you decide you need some UK-love.”
And that’s what we did. Every now and then I’d pack to the brim a box full of DVD’s, books, food, tea and anything else he was missing from the land he once said sucked the happiness right from his very core. I guess you don’t realise how much you take things for granted until they’re not around anymore. It’s a good job that modern online courier services make flying the nest just that little more comforting, by providing us with a cheap way of ensuring we’ll never miss out on all those home comforts that can’t fly with us.
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