Being home 

A lot of people have asked me whether it feels odd to be home again. The truth as I reply is ‘absolutely not’. 

England and my various haunts within her are so much a part of who I am that it could only ever feel like I’ve never been away. Some people have commented that it must seem so boring to come back and nothing change. I however, believe it would be a disservice to everyone to think that, since plenty has changed even though it appears the same to each individual in their own life. I am simply hugely pleased to know that within my group of friends and family, despite the passing of time and distance, I still feel very much a part of it all even as life moves on.
Take for example my night staying back in the old pub where I lived with my friends in Hampshire. I stayed in my old room and felt very much at home, but it was not the same since with the passing of time and the ageing of the building my room now also provides refuge for a family of mushrooms which make for unusual bedroom companions.

Out riding with my old roomies we took a jaunt down the jumping lane (a stretch of woodland path lined with a series of around 10 log jumps) and a new branch had joined us on which I near enough knocked myself clean off the back of my trusty steed. Such small changes riding on a wave of blissful familiarity are what keeps life both exciting and homely at the same time.

This weekend I however surpassed myself with the accident prone. I was at my beautiful friends wedding where they had done me the great honor of asking me to be bridesmaid. The wedding was at a glorious location called Place House in Cornwall with the reception held in a marquee on the gardens looking out to St Mawes. I regaled stories as a word of warning to a series of my wedding companions, on the dangers of marquee pegs, having once ripped my toe open running into one. Unfortunately I did not take my own advice and ran into another at full pelt, proceeding to face plant in mud and spend the entire later part of the nights celebrations in the local A&E missing a large part of what was a wonderful day, full of beautiful memories and beautiful people. There was little saving grace of this ridiculousness as although I was blessed with a kindly man to look after me in A&E, I lost any remains of my dignity and pride somewhere on the road back from Truro in the hedge due to excessive alcohol consumption. 

It has been a full on two weeks and I am most certainly feeling sadness at jumping back on another flight away from family, friends and the beauty of home. Luckily I guess I’ll b distracted for the first part at least whilst I try to tackle the joys of crossing London Paddington with two suitcases, a hobble and a fat foot. 

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