I had a bad blog week last week and skipped one, I promise I'll be good from now on!
I live quite a way from my folks, not in American terms I guess but it's a good five-hour drive from our home in London to theirs in Durham, south east to north east - definitely too far to pop round the corner for a cuppa! So I don't get to visit very often, especially with the price of train tickets and two kids in tow.
It means that when I do go home I try to squeeze in as many people as possible. We were up for less than 48 hours last weekend but we still managed to see my parents, my brother, my gran and uncle, two of my close friends and our closest family friends too! It might have been a fleeting visit but it was full of laughter, slightly chaotic but lots of fun.
I've lived in London for ten and a half years, and before that I was at uni for four; Hull and Arizona will always feel like home to me too. But Durham, where I grew up, where my family comes from, holds a special place for me. I love going home, back to my mum and dad, to the house I grew up in, the places I grew up in. And it's more than that: the north east is part of my identity, central to me. I've always thought that home is the place I feel loved, that it could be anywhere on earth as long as I'm with people I love. But I never feel more at home than when I'm there.
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Home feels more like home when you are in it.
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