It's perhaps inevitable that life immediately after a period of travelling is going to seem comparatively dull. But a couple of instances this week have made me wonder if things are worse than I realised.
Firstly, I was in the canteen on Monday lunchtime having the usual "how was your weekend?" banter with my colleagues. On this occasion, come to think of it, banter is probably the wrong word, because the initial conversation consisted of little more than the odd mediocre "meh". I then chipped in with "I bought some new cycling shoes on Saturday!"
This wasn't a word of a lie; I am the proud owner of some new cycling shoes*. However, the reaction I got implied that if that was all I had to say about my weekend** then my life must be monumentally dull. Incidentally, as a bloke I am well aware that getting excited about shoes (even those with a purpose) is Not The Done Thing, but everyone makes mistakes.
Then yesterday, I was chatting to someone on Facebook about their recent visit to Bath. I was quite excited about this because I really loved living in Bath, and being reminded about my time there bought back some good memories. But then, for some reason, the thing I chose to reminisce about as I typed away was the revision breaks I used to take, when I strolled down the hill to the delightful local shops. I padded it out a bit, recalling the sunshine, and the fact that I used to buy a lot of doughnuts, but even so, on reflection, it doesn't bode well. Bath was awesome, and I'm sure I could think about lots of things which I enjoyed - yet here I am going "I used to love going shopping!"
*I have bought some shoes of the type which attach me to my bike as I speed along. If you see me in a ditch or fall off at traffic lights, you know why.
**Of course, this isn't all I had to say about my weekend. There is quite a lot I could have waved my hands excitedly about had I put my mind to it. Church, for example, has been really good. The Gospel is being preached, and things are happening.