A New Beginning

Keren first came into my life as a guest, staying with us during a holiday. At the time, she was simply a bystander, yet we quickly discovered a connection. Despite the years between us, we shared a love of music, films, and long conversations that seemed to bridge the gap. When my relationship with Sheila ended, my family looked for someone to blame. In their eyes, Karen became the cause — or at least part of it. But that was never the truth. The relationship had already reached its end; Karen was not the catalyst. There was nothing planned beyond the fact that I had decided to take some leave. At that time, the obvious place to go was the UK. My mother had passed away, as had my brothers Lionel, David, and Phillip. Michael was still with us, so I planned to visit him and his family. What followed was far more ordinary, and far more human. Karen offered me accommodation in the UK. When I arrived, she was between teaching appointments and had time on her hands, so she decided to join me. Together, we visited Michael and Irene in Dover, and from there it was just a short boat trip across to Europe. Our journey did not begin in Paris or Rome, but in Munich. We spent three wonderful days there, wandering the city and discovering its character before boarding an overnight train to Naples. From there, we took the circular train to Sorrento, the gateway to the Amalfi Coast. Buses carried us along winding coastal roads to towns perched above the sea. We stayed on the Amalfi Coast, moving between its villages and absorbing the quiet magic of the place — the old architecture, small restaurants and cafés, centuries-old churches, and, of course, the warmth of the sun and the beauty of the beaches. It was a slower, more intimate experience, shaped by discovery rather than spectacle, and it left a lasting imprint on us. On that journey, our friendship deepened into something stronger. The companionship we found was not born out of betrayal, but out of shared joy and discovery. Sadly, my family could not accept this. My eldest daughter told me she would never speak to me again, and even now, twenty years later, she has kept that vow. At the time, I wrote letters to all my children — though they were grown and had families of their own — trying to explain my side of the story. None replied. I want to be clear: Karen should never have carried the weight of blame. She did not break up my marriage, nor did she cause the distance between me and my children. What she brought into my life was companionship, joy, and a chance to share in the simple pleasures we both loved. 
For that, I remain grateful. Looking back now, I see that this journey was never an escape from what I had left behind, but a pause in which everything I had avoided began to surface. The places were beautiful, the days unhurried, yet beneath it all was the quiet knowledge that I was carrying unresolved truths with me. Travel can soften the edges of grief and confusion, but it cannot erase them — it can only give you the space to finally acknowledge what you did not know how to face at the time. We have now been together for over twenty years. During that time, we embraced new experiences. For a while, we worked as onsite relief managers at a motel resort, giving the owners a chance for a much-needed holiday. It was demanding, but rewarding — we discovered how naturally we could work as a team. Later, we joined a government sensory food panel linked to St Lucia University. For more than three years, we tested and reported on a remarkable variety of foods — coffee, chocolate, tropical fruits, and more. It was fascinating, and we came away with not only sharper taste buds, but a shared sense of fun and curiosity. Alongside these shared adventures, I also kept busy with my own work. For nearly a decade, I was employed as a chef at a newly refurbished seaside seafood restaurant in Redcliffe. It was a bustling place with reception rooms for weddings and conferences, and I thrived on the energy of it. I made many friendships there — connections that remain part of my life even today. In later years, I took up casual work as a chef with the local council at the Redcliffe Entertainment Centre, where I ran the in-house café. The centre hosted everything from musical shows and comedians to well-known performers. There was a period when we were apart for several months. Karen returned to the UK to care for her father, who was growing frail. When plans were made to move him from his long-time home, she made the compassionate decision to purchase the house herself, ensuring he could remain in familiar surroundings. I joined her later, and not long after — just as the world was thrown into the upheaval of the COVID-19 pandemic — her father passed away.