“No man ever steps in the same river twice, for it's not the same river and he's not the same man.” (Heraclitus)

I've now been in the UK for 12 years, and in Oxford for 6, half of all that time. 

Earlier this month, I took the same trip from Bristol to Oxford that I took exactly 6 years ago - on exactly the same day of the week. Retracing my steps showed me just how far I have come. 

And just last week at dancing, I asked two men to dance whom I would never in my wildest dreams have imagined I would ever be able to walk up to and ask if they wanted to dance. 

Interestingly, one of them remembered me, and the other one didn't recognise me at all. I like to think that's because I have changed so much over the past 6 years, not least my new haircut. 

But what struck me was not that I wasn't scared to ask them to dance, scared that they might turn me down, but that I felt I was good enough to ask them to dance with me, and that whilst I was dancing with them, I was focussed on the dance and not the mistakes I might have been making. Because they wouldn't point out mistakes, they would give me the opportunity to learn and perhaps admire the attempts, admire my progress. 

It's interesting that the dance floor had been redone for that night. 

It made me realise that I am not the same woman, nor was it the same dance floor.* 

Purlgirl xx

*with apologies to Heraclitus