Because Africa isn't the only part of the world with black men.

What happens if, after a long, rather tough year, you negotiate for changes to your job. So you can be happier. So you can be professionally challenged and have a chance to build the skills you want to build. So you can stay and do the stuff you want to do.

And then you are told that your changes seem reasonable and have been accepted, but that it's now a 'new' role that will be externally recruited and you can apply.

Well, if you're like me, you're stubborn. And perhaps under the impression that you are not appreciated or wanted, but definitely you're not interested in competing for what you feel is already yours. So you again make reasonable arguments that are, by definition, reasonable. And by the time you get a chance to talk it all through to someone with a little authority, at least you learn that no one thinks you're shit. But you stand by your arguments, and in the meantime, have started looking elsewhere. Because history has proven that it can be a hell of a bitch to find something elsewhere. So you drop in a few applications off the cuff, to places you might like to be. Preferably with the prospect of ample attractive men and the possibility of a little more freedom of choice and an increased chance of having a bit of a life.

And then what happens if, after looking elsewhere, you get a nibble. And then another nibble. And then another.

And then a full on bite. Right on your face, where you can't ignore it. Because it's dangling there. In the way that major bites do. And you're totally surprised. Because it happened so fast that you barely saw it coming.

And so you decide that it is once again time for a change, even though you hate change.

The point of all this? Heather is going (again)

That's right. I've accepted a new job and will be moving to the Solomon Islands.

Where the heck is that, you ask? Head south towards Australia and hang a left.


"The Sollies", as my Aussie friends call them, are a series of about 900 islands in the south pacific, so I'm going to have to pack some snorkel gear.

If you were to do a google image search, you'll likely find lots of stuff like this



and this



But before you start thinking of ways to switch our identities, know that I'll be living in the capital, Honiara, which has been described as follows:


Will Randall writes about Honiara in chapter 12 of his book Solomon Time:
Honiara, as I quickly discovered, is the unsightly boil in the navel of an otherwise dazzling, seductively beautiful Solomon Islands.

Paul Theroux writes about Honiara in chapter 8 of his book The Happy Isles of Oceania:My first impression was of a place so ramshackle, so poor, so scary, so unexpectedly filthy, that I began to understand the theory behind culture shock - something I had never truly experienced in its paralysing and malignant form. [...]

(both quotes taken from this website)


Nevertheless, I'm excited. And stressed. And happy and nervous and feeling guilty and apprehensive and optimistic and and and...

But mostly it feels good.

It's probably going to mostly be stressy at first. Not everything is going to be taken care of for me. I'll have to figure out where I'm going to live. I'll have to buy a car and learn how to get around and find my way into the local scene and make some friends. But also, I get to pick where I'm going to live! And I don't have to share a car and driver with 20 other people! And I'll be in the same location long enough to make friends!

Not so sure how good it will be for my love life though. I googled 'hot men Solomon Islands' and the first search result I got was this:



So I'm not exactly hopeful.
(Also, am not ashamed at all that I did this particular google search. Judge me at your own discretion).

Increased freedom? Check. Possibility of a bit of a life? Check. Ample hot men? Well, as Meatloaf says, two outta three aint't bad.

So, that's my news. Heather and Heather's Gone Again are moving. Again.

Hope you'll join us.