Monday, May 23, 2011

Home is where the heart is. Right now.

It's really so confusing, being all transatlantical.

As soon as I arrive in London, I say how nice it is to be home. Then this past weekend with my parents, three sisters, three brothers-in-law, three nieces and two nephews, I was telling friends 'I'm not in London today, I'm at home'.

And now, after almost four weeks living out of a suitcase, I'm at Heathrow waiting for my flight to NY, and it really does feel like I'm heading home.

I may only have lived in New York for six weeks, and have spent over half that time elsewhere, but it is definitely home right now.

Not just because TLOML is there eagerly awaiting my arrival (possibly just 'cos I'm packing Laguvulin). But because there's no bed like your own bed. And welcoming though my London hosts and my family are, I don't feel I can wander around naked, or file my nails in front of the telly. I also always relish having my full range of unguents and my proper electric toothbrush (which doesn't travel with me). I know, it's an odd take on home comforts, but so it is.

I'm signing out with two sighs. A big sad one for leaving London. And a big happy one for the return to Rabbit Hutch Towers.

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