Back home again

It was at once wonderful to be back in England and, at the same time, almost dreamlike, the week passing in a slightly hazy, boozy and befuddled whir, a heady cocktail of insomnia, booze and nostalgia. It is not so much that I had forgotten how beautiful Lewes was, rather that I hadn't even noticed that it was before this Christmas; the perfect, individual, "chocolate box" houses, the castle, the cobbled street I used to live on, once so ordinary and now rather exotic and fairy-tale-esque. It was also slightly poignant to be reminded of all our amazing friends so distant, and yet also quite reassuring to know there is somewhere to return to - it makes it easier to leave, oddly.

Almost as soon as I'd turned the key in the lock back at Main Street I felt that I had stepped back through the wardrobe into reality. I fluffed Conker and Peanut, who were inordinately pleased to see us, and then proceeded directly to bed. It was then that I heard poor Conker yowling downstairs, clearly in a state of some distress. It seemed that with the lights off he had quite forgotten that we had returned (for he is not the brightest of creatures), and it was quite heartbreaking to imagine that this was how he had in fact spent the majority of the last week... thus I rose, plucked him from the kitchen floor and deposited him on our bed where he proceeded to purr away the next four hours before I had to return to work.

Ultimately, home is where your ginger is.