He felt things were improving between him and his ex-girlfriend. Her boyfriend left a week after the party. They were still together though and he'd come to terms with it now. He didn't see this guy's leaving as a chance for himself to move in on her. He actually felt sorry for her; this meant she'd see her boyfriend less often. She was in love, she'd told him. He was in Tel Aviv and she'd go to see him every weekend she could.
Whenever he saw her he'd ask how things were. She looked sad.
"I know how that feels," he told her. "Someone you love isn't close by. You'll be OK. It might not seem like it now but things will get better." He sympathised with her. Now she could feel what he'd gone through in England, albeit different circumstances.

Workwise, things weren't going too well. Because of the constant change in voluunteers, everytime new people arrived he'd have to show them what to do, explain routines and run around after them to make sure they were working properly. It was really beginning to tire him out both physically and mentally. Every month or so he'd go through the same routine. It was getting to him.
A few consecutive nights passed where a few of the volunteers had been less than helpful and had disappeared for long breaks. He didn't like having to run around looking for people. His co-worker could do it but she didn't seem to take too much notice of things anyway. Maybe he should call it a day with the kibbutz - he'd spent most of the past four and a half years there.
The next couple of weeks at work pissed him off even more. He wasn't getting anything out of it anymore and would have left there and then if it hadn't been for his contract. His boss would need a few weeks notice to arrange someone new to replace him. There was no way his boss would have let him go either at such short notice - the following weeks would be exceptionally busy due to the upcoming Jewish holidays.