Friday, 15 November 2013

I took some

"time out" yesterday. It meant I had to start the day very early but it was worth it.
My sister and I headed off to pick up our friend Holly from the boat she is travelling on. It was in port just for the day and we all wanted to make the most of each other's company.
And it was a good day. I "went out to breakfast" for the first time in my life. (We cats simply do not normally do such things.) We talked and talked - and talked. Holly and I knitted while she availed herself of some essential computer downloads - and we added to each other's stash.
One day was not long enough of course. It never is. Last time she was here for three - and that was not long enough.
"Next time..." we told each other. I hope there is a next time.
It is a problem for me. Most of my friends live in other parts of the world, at very least in other parts of the country but mostly in other parts of the world. I consider myself fortunate that e-mail makes it much easier to keep in contact with them now but it is not the same as seeing them at least occasionally.
One of our next door neighbours is Hungarian. She told me the other day that, although she loves living here, she gets very homesick. They will shortly be going back again. She will stay three months with the children. Her Australian husband will be there for a shorter time as he has to come back to work. I wonder how he feels about his Hungarian wife being homesick. Is that why he is willing to accept another prolonged absence?
And it makes me wonder what it was like for my great-grandparents who came out here before the time of e-mail and Skype, whose own parents did not even have access to a phone. The only means of communication was a letter - which took several weeks to arrive.
Does the ability to communicate more easily make us more or less homesick?
I know that I am torn between two places - the United Kingdom which is my intellectual and academic home and where most of my friends live - and the place in which I actually live which is where my immediate family is.  People said I would get used to being back here but it has been a long time now and I still feel no differently.
I am not sure where "home" is.


helen devries said...

Home is where my husband is...but where will it be if he dies before me?
I have no answer to that.

catdownunder said...

That means home is a person not a place? Perhaps it is. Interesting idea.

widdershins said...

That sounds about right. When Mrs Widders says she can't wait to come home, she means me. (and Widdercat, of course)

catdownunder said...

Mrs Widders makes a lot of sense!