A New Beginning

Keren first came into my life as a guest, staying with us during a holiday. At that stage, she was simply a visitor. We soon discovered that we shared many interests — music, films, books, and long conversations that seemed to make the years between us disappear.

When my relationship with Sheila ended, my family looked for someone to blame.

In their eyes, Keren became the cause — or at least part of it.

But that was never the truth.

The relationship had already reached its end; Keren 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.

Keren 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.

That was her decision, and although I have always respected it, it has remained one of the greatest sadness of my life.

I want to be clear: Keren 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.

Over the years, Keren and I gradually built a quiet life together.

For a time, we managed a motel resort while the owners took a well-earned holiday. We discovered that we worked well as a team, sharing the responsibilities and enjoying the challenge.

Later we became members of a government sensory food panel associated with the University of Queensland at St Lucia. For more than three years we tasted and evaluated everything from coffee and chocolate to tropical fruits and new food products. It was fascinating work and, more importantly, something we enjoyed doing together.

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 Center, where I ran the in-house café. The center hosted everything from musical shows and comedians to well-known performers.

There was a period when we were apart for several months.

Keren 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.

It marked the end of another chapter. Once again, life reminded us how quickly circumstances can change and how precious our time with those we love really is.