The raven has landed....

Granted, although a bit windswept at the odd occasion, slightly less than dry at others, and alternating between being far too hot, and far too cold, the Raven's arrival in the country with stories and myths of magical swords, wizards and round tables, have been reasonable trouble free.

Armed with a knobkerrie (traditional weapon) and a cattle whip, not one but two different leather straps, and some serious looking leather belts, I have expected, and actually resigned myself to the fact, that I might have to face some very awkward questions about my choice of luggage items.

However, with a plane that arrived ahead of schedule, customs officials friendly and courteous, no one at the "Nothing to declare (however we know better)" section, my biggest concern was to find the smoking area. As such, before seven in the morning, I was standing somewhere on the outside of Heathrow, trying to text the news of my safe arrival, finding a lighter and cigarette in a handbag stuffed full with everything that could conceivably be needed in an emergency , and smiling politely whilst answering every second person "No, I am not cold." Thanks to Uncle Nick, the owner of Moonglow collected me from the airport and two or three hours later, I was re-united with my family.

The jubilation of seeing familiar and loved faces, the attempts to put months of absence into words, made it seem as if the old farm house was filled with laughter and joy. And with us all having the African child in us, it was not long before we went in search of open spaces. My shoes were discarded first, shortly thereafter followed by the stockings...and as I stepped onto the cold, wet grass, feeling the earth underneath my bare feet for the first time, my heart settled...I have finally arrived.