From what he called the 'beginning' to the present time, a number of years had passed. Almost 6 years.
Fed up with his way of life and feeling stuck in a rut, he needed to get away and make a fresh start.
Go someplace where nobody knew him. He'd thought long and hard and finally took a chance at something
different. A kibbutz, 3500 miles away in Israel. He'd heard about this through his brother; a great way
to spend some time away from home life, a break from the 'rat race' so common in the Western world.
He spent 2 months at what was to be his first kibbutz. He had expected to stay longer but couldn't
really settle down into this new life-style. He couldn't pin down why he didn't feel too comfortable.
It certainly had nothing to do with the weather; just a few minutes north of the southern resort town of Eilat,
the weather was all he'd hoped it to be. The work was fine by him too - outside, under the sun, picking melons.
He figured it was probably the other volunteers that he didn't feel too at ease with. It'd been a long
time since he'd met new people and had always found it difficult making friends.
So he'd given up. He'd been angry with himself for quitting. He hadn't needed to return home; he could've
gone to a different kibbutz, taken the long journey north to Tel Aviv and arranged something at the kibbutz
It was too late now. He'd bought his return ticket to England within a few days of deciding to leave, and
his dream came to an abrupt halt.