I won't get to see the ocean almost every day:
Instead of 40 shades of green, there'll be perhaps 7:
I can't open my mouth and be recognized as foreign anymore.
I can't use like "wee" and "craic" and have no one blink an eye.
I won't be able to open my windows and look out on the River Bann.
The people I've experienced this place with won't be near me:
Our fearless leader, Nigel, will return to his quiet life until the next HECUA class comes next Spring. He clearly won't love them as much as us.
My cell phone number will begin with 763 again, rather than 028.
I won't be able to go to the pub for a pint anymore.
There will be diversity again? Weird.
I'll have to get used to the passenger and driver side of the car switching again. JUST WHEN I FIGURED IT OUT.
Taxi's will be a rarity again.
Listening to Cara Dillon and Paul Brady will only stir up nostalgic memories.
Catholic and Protestant will never mean the same thing as they did before I came here.
Nigel won't be there to find remedy plants when I touch stinging Nettles:
There won't be wee sheep everywhere I turn my eyes:
Lydia and Caleb...
My umbrella won't have to be stashed in my purse/jacket on every single outing.
Tea, coffee, and bikkies will slowly be a thing of the past.
Aye, enough o' that chat, like. It was good craic, so it was. Amazin'. Brilliant, like.
Cheers, all the best. Bye, bye bye....
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