Guin Guin

Time is a fickle little thing, sometimes an hour can last an eternity, sometimes two months can go in the blink of an eye.

Dave had mixed emotions about the return to the UK. He missed his family, his friends, his house and most of all the ability to know what the heck people round him were saying. He was looking forward to starting his PhD and getting on with life. He was happy to go back.

Yet he was most certainly not happy to leave. Jean's parents had took him in and made him their own. He felt very much part of the family. It was strange how close you can feel to people you can't talk to. Verbal comunication had been slow at the best of times, but that lacked importance. He would miss them.

Dave and Jean boarded the train and waved goodbye.

"Guin, guin," said Dave, doing remarkably well to keep his cool, "Guin!"

Ma ma had told him to say 'guin'. It was almost the equivalent of 'Bog off', designed to keep things light and prevent tears.

It didn't go according to plan. The inevitable emotional outbursts from both Jean and her Ma ma came right on cue. Dave did his best to not look too girly himself.

"Guin," he said as the train started to move.

"Guin."