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So my brother in law took the leap and moved abroad. He’s living life on the streets, (well in between sofa surfing), but he’s happy. The happiest he’s ever been. So the family, albeit worried sick about his diminishing stomach and the fact his passport has run out and he’s basically a fugitive (No I’m not joking, and that’s only the cherry on top, but we will save that for another post) are happy for him. Well in his delightful and peaceful contentment of homelessness we decided to hop on a plane and see the silly sod for ourselves. (My mother in law was most depressed!) I booked the flights and off we went. Pursue and rescue. At least that’s what she thought…

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