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I’m going to try and write something every day – not sure how long it will last, or how good each post will be. I think though, I need to spew a few words out on a regular basis to stop them dancing around my mind when I can’t sleep..

I went over to my Mum’s house today to help her switch her broadband from BT to Sky. (As an aside, if your parents are slightly older, check that BT aren’t ripping them off – they are bastards for that!) My Mum and Step-Dad don’t live all that far from me, however, because it’s mostly country roads it takes a good hour to reach them. I genuinely love visiting them – it’s a proper ‘home’, Mum fusses over me – my Step-Dad always has a tale or two about his job. There’s endless tea, love, and warmth.

There are occasional pangs of sadness when I’m there. It’s where I retreated to when my marriage broke down – I remember sobbing on the sofa, I remember the sleepless nights. It was a horrible time, but they looked after me. It’s not my ‘family home’ – that went when my parents divorced. I still have the most vivid dreams of where I grew up, how it looked, every nook and cranny. However, it’s not ‘Home’ any more – another family live there, it’s had extensions, and changes – it’s not the place I said goodbye to years ago. Don’t get me wrong, I still like to drive down my old road, smile at where I ‘played out’ with my army of friends. Swing by the old shops I used to frequent. In some ways it’s VERY different, however, it’s roughly the same.




It’s not about the ‘things’

I lived in probably seven or so places in my lifetime, and I think the family home is where I spent the most time. I’ve only ever resided in Essex. I’ve lived in some lovely places, others – less so. Some of them felt like home, some didn’t. I think, what I’ve learnt is that home isn’t always where your stuff is, or what colour the walls are. It’s the people inside, or the feeling it evokes when you step inside. You could be surrounded by so much ‘stuff’, however it doesn’t make it homely.

The place I live in with Miss A is most definitely home. I love being here, I love stepping through the front door. I like locking the door at night and feeling safe in our little homely bubble. I occasionally miss being near a train station, or  having to drive a distance for a coffee. However I love the silence at night, the rolling countryside out the window. It’s not the most grand, or the biggest – It doesn’t really matter though –  there’s no place like home.

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