We Do Adventure

I was gearing up for a light-hearted, hopefully humorous, blog this evening when tragedy struck; tragedy of the genuinely numbing, incomprehensible kind. We'd turned up to prepare to an evening of youth work at Klub Novi Most to discover that one of our new regulars this summer had had an accident swimming in the Neretva in the afternoon. We were told he'd got an electric shock and was in hospital. He had been in Klub this morning, his usual energetic self; full of wide-eyed enthusiasm whether it was playing table tennis, pulling faces or practising his rock'n'roll poses with an unplugged guitar in front of the mirror. About halfway through the evening a tearful girl burst through the door to deliver what in that split second had become painfully obvious news. He had died. Nobody wanted to believe it. In my mind all I could see was replays of him laughing and joking and making fun of me during this morning's session. 'Why?' and 'No!' fought to be...

Ok, so the title should read 'Matt and Rowan' but 'Jack and Jill' are more famous for their hill Rowan is hugely relieved that as of tomorrow we will be living on a flat road in a flat part of town. She's said more than once that she thought that walking up the steps and slopes to the place we've been living should have got easier over time. In her opinion it hasn't. It is fair to say it's good for the legs. I've appreciated it, as I've yet to find anywhere that seems sociably acceptable or safe enough to run. The safety issue centres around the quality of the running service rather than the vibe of the neighbourhoods. Tomorrow the two Novi Most combis in Mostar will share our stuff between them as we descend for the last time. (Obviously, not really for the last time!) I will miss the view. That's all the more reason to get my bike up and running. It's been fantastic to get up in the morning and look out over the city. The light here is ...