So after all those weeks of moping and moaning and counting down the days, I have now been home for a little over two weeks.
I was annoyed at my Mum within the hour, and my Dad within the day.
I still don’t know why this term was so hard for me being away from home, but it got me thinking about what home really means. Deep, I know.
Everyone says ‘Home is where the heart is’. To an extent I agree. I miss my family most of all when I am away. But I think that saying is also lacking a great deal.
After all, superficial as this will sound, but home is also your house, or at least your familiar possessions; because lets face it, when you go on holiday you are with your family, but by the end of the week part of you still looks forward to returning to your house.
I also realized that for me maybe home isn’t just my family and my possessions, but also the place. I grew up in and around the same area for my whole life. I went to primary school literally 5 minutes drive from where I sit typing this post now. My nursery was also a five minute drive, secondary school a 20 minute drive, church a 3 minute drive, the hospital I was born in, a 4 minute drive. You can plonk me anywhere in my home town, and I know how to get home. It always makes me think I’m a little like Samwise Gangee when he states ‘If I take one more step, it’ll be farthest from home I’ve ever been”
So on my return home I realized how much I miss the trees and the fields; the fact that you get your GDA of salt just from opening a window and breathing the air.
Of course, sadly, this makes me unlike Harry Potter:
Because when I leave uni its more like “I’M GOING HOME!! SEE YOU SUCKERS LATER!” which is far less eloquent and touching…but then, he is an orphan abused by his remaining family, so I guess I don’t really want to be like him in that sense.
Another of my deep and meaningful thoughts I had since being home (congrats by the way if you are still with me on my rant) is whether the yearn to return (that rhymes) home will ever cease. Once I move out after University (entirely hypothetical considering how much debt I have from fees), will it become ‘visiting’ rather than ‘going home’, or will going to my parents always be ‘going home’? I mean, what about even when I’m really old, like 30?! Guess we’ll have to wait and see…if you no longer think of returning to your parents as ‘going home’ when did that end for you?
Aside from all those deep philosophical thoughts I have been having, I have also been ploughing on with my University work. I also hit the charity shops and got a bunch of new (new for me anyway) books really cheap. I’m not really sure why I did that because I already have a huge pile…but I guess at least if I die there will be a good range of books so I shouldn’t be judged too harshly. I mean, imagine if you died reading Stephanie Mayer and there was nothing else by your bed! How embarrassing!
(Sorry to all those I just offended. At the same time, I would like to make it clear that none of the books in my pile are Stephanie Meyer).
I also became Mary Berry number 2 (new and improved?) and made her Easter Lemon Pavlova, which despite having two major components (making a meringue base, and making lemon curd) went surprisingly well:
For all those who are wondering, yes, I did turn 80 this week, hence my hobbies of trawling charity shops and baking.
As always comments, questions or just general messages of love are appreciated, and if not, until next time folks!