New adventures, those we choose, are always so exciting, aren’t they? Initially for some, being outside of one’s comfort zone may feel a bit frightening but, like anything new (e.g. one iPhone to another), we can eventually accept the change and decide ‘well, that wasn’t so bad after all.’ With such changes, whether big or small, we grow. Depending on the type of experience (e.g. learning how to operate that new iPhone, realising a mistake about a relationship, failing an important exam etc.), we grow in understanding. From what we learn, we have a better idea of the next step.

Perhaps, changing country is the biggest step anyone can make. I want to say “been there, done it and worn the tee-shirt (and got the video?).” In one fell swoop, almost everything you ever knew has gone. “No, that’s not right” you might say but, in a way, it is right. The service you get in a shop is different, examining boards offer different titles to exams, you don’t make hairdressing appointments but simply wait, the cheese is different to what you are used to, Sunday lunch ‘as we know it’ can’t be found in that new country, pubs are different and, well, need I go on?

Little things are hugely significant in representation of who you were or maybe still are. Let me say that crisp packets have just gone global. What I mean is, in the eight years we have lived in the north-western corner of Spain, it has been impossible to buy a bag of crisps in a pub in this region. I’m saying pub but, for what I am used to in my home country, it’s not really a pub. And back to those crisps. Last week, in one of our local (but still foreign to us) haunts, there was a young man sitting at the bar. “Nothing unusual in that”, you might say. No, there’s nothing unusual in that. But this man was eating crisps from a packet! My husband and I looked at each other in total disbelief.

Where did he get that packet of crisps from? Did he buy them in a supermarket and take them into the pub? Would that be okay with the Spanish pub owners? Are the owners frightened to tell the young man not to eat ‘outside’ crisps in their pub? Or did he …did he buy them in the pub?

I’ve missed eating crisps from a packet while in a pub. It tells me who I am. It reminds me that I am an ordinary working-class, but now retired, English woman. Okay, maybe even David Beckham has enjoyed a packet f crisps in a pub but, to me, that little packet reminds me who I am?

When making decisions that will form the next step in your future, first, stop to remember who you are. You’ll be glad you did … .