“Flying overseas. No time to feel the breeze.” – After six months of captivity under Kim Jong Boris, the good ship Rookster sets sail again.
The old country was unrecognisable. That post-Olympic swagger I left in 2013 has gone, replaced by a conformity I can’t condone. And my sense of belonging is on the blink.
Trips home usually end with the feeling – how little things change. This time it was the big things. Re-branding our rights as privileges and making them a condition of our good behaviour felt patronising and very unBritish.
If this episode has taught me anything, it’s the value of freedom and friendships. I didn’t get my fill of either. But the bonds are strong, and there will be a next time.
For now, this misfit’s moving on. To the lands of the Libertadores. First stop, Querétaro, Mexico. The traffic light says amber, so we’re taking the risk [of thinking for ourselves].
The future ain’t what it used to be. And it’s a time for heroes. So, from the forearms of one of mine. – “Fail we may. Sail we must.”