Back home but where is my suitcase?

So good that British Airways warn their passengers that things might go astray- so I took their advice and kept the essentials in my hand baggage with my fancy, personalised luggage label (birthday pressie from Toby and Cecile)  but everything else is somewhere between Heathrow and Home.

Home. In all the excitement of travelling to new places, its easy to forget the pleasure of coming home- back to my own bed, mad dogs, homemade soup and salad,  Julia and her campervan.  Home.  I’m also reminded of  all the meanings of that word for some of the people with dementia in my creative writing workshops- whose fear of losing their home is all consuming. And I’m reminded of First Nation Canadians who have recently reclaimed their land and their languages.

Home. Flopping about in favourite jeans, watching BBCiPlayer(so good), opening the mail, hugs with dogs on the sofa.
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Very Snazzy

  Very Snazzy

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