He looked out the window; grey clouds spilling their load. Cold and windy. Just over a year to the day that he'd arrived and the weather couldn't have been more different, (he thought of the warm, sunny day it had been back then.) His rucksack was precariously placed on the sofa, bursting at the seams; completely full except for his towel and toiletries. He'd taken a shower and dressed in his favourite jeans, T-shirt and a couple of sweat-tops then headed off to the shop to buy some cigarettes for the journey ahead.

He felt very nervous and his stomach was doing somersaults. He surveyed the sparseness of his room, letting his mind wander through the images and memories of all that had happened within the four walls.
He was reluctant to leave and looking forward to returning to England at the same time. There were a few things he wanted to do and items to buy, and England was the best, and easiest, place for him to get them done. He had people he wanted to see too. He had no idea what to expect, this being the first time he'd be returning to England knowing his time on the kibbutz was over.