nowheresickness

im sat in the business lounge of birmingham airport, having scored an upgrade to business class for the first leg of my flight, its a great way to ease into the journey, the food is good, the beer is free - im calm.

The weather outside this window is worsening, the wind picking up, bringing with it dark grey clouds and rain, hammering into the floor to ceiling glass in front of me. im calm.

the thought of home is confronting - home...a word with which i am troubled by..

"But I'll tell you the reason you couldn't get home
Cause there's nowhere you've been and it's nowhere you're going
Home is only a feeling you get in your mind
From the people you love and you travel beside" stornoway

So, where does that leave me. Im leaving those i love, those that have seen me through the most troubled parts of my mind. Home isnt where im going, but now, it isnt where ive left, im travelling alone, today.

but i do have people i love, family, all of them, friends, all of them, here and there - but im torn, perpetually, and misunderstood, perpetually.

Im embracing it, im befriending it....which is why...im calm         whilst inside a small piece of me is racked with
                                                                                                                                 the pain of leaving, ripped apart.

 home.......?

 home........?

a few photographs

its been a good trip - varied, city time, beach time, wandering, drinking, eating, and yes a little surfing.

Its rekindled a love of this isle, i love my people - their humour, dry and understated.

ive eaten a few cheeses: blue vinney, caerphilly, keens unpasturised cheddar, sharpam rustic (pictured), a proper double gloucester, and of course, stinking bishop

i discovered some new bands:

stornoway
bombay bicyle club
metronomy

these are the pick. I have realised this post is becoming link heavy, however it is highlighting what a "english" trip i have been on, the music ive discovered the food ive eaten, the cheese! - its been a blast, and has evoked a strong love for home:

 doom bar - probably the best beer in the world.

 in the sun, in a tiny cornish fishing village, is about as good as it gets

museumofbritishsurfing.org.uk

and finally - a long drive down a windy road to do this, for you murf: - the only beach of any international repute in the UK - Newquay's Fistral beach, owned now, by murfs surfshop.

resonance...intensity

true

Curled up in the back of the car,
9 years old you don't know where you are,
And your head's on the window your eyes are just closed,
There's a voice in the front and a hush on the road,
You're a passenger but your mind is travelling on.

Open your eyes and your 9 years older,
Hands on the wheel and your racing on over to lie with your first love you can't wait to see her,
You borrowed the car and you think your the driver,
But now your the passenger to your own heart and it takes you travelling,
Travelling on...

When the morning broke and the sky fell down,
It went black as night and the wind blew round,
And stole your directions you lost your way home,
And you felt like a passenger left by the road,
But I'll tell you the reason you couldn't get home,
Cause there's nowhere you've been and it's nowhere you're going,
Home is only a feeling you get in your mind,
From the people you love and you travel beside,
You may feel like a passenger but now you're the driver,
You've got to go travelling, travelling on
Because if you break down it's a cold hard shoulder...

So fuel up your mind and fire up your heart and drive on
Drive on drive on...
And when your days are darker put your foot down harder,
Drive on drive on.

And it's nine more years you've been driving now,
But tonight you're stumbling through your old town,
You met up with a schoolfriend who's still just the same,
And you talked all the same shit you talked in those days,
And now you're drunk and you're sad for the old times passing you by,
For there's no rewind so you might as well play while your time is rolling away,
And get back on the road it's a beautiful day,
Pick up all the friends you can find on your way,
And if you lose direction they'll be there guiding you on,
Guiding you, guiding you on...
Because we're all going the same way down this long road,
Yes, we're all bound the same way down this long, long road...

So fuel up your mind and fire up your heart and drive on
Drive on drive on...
And when your days are darker put your foot down harder,
Drive on,
Fuel up and drive on,
Fuel up and drive on,
Drive on...

nighttime light play - croyde bay

tourism

it a lovely feeling being a tourist in your own country. I used to say town, but now country seems more fitting, as the whole of england feels like "mine" right now.

So below are some pictures, from a wander around yesterday.

 a boozer and a suit - a common sighting around these parts it seems - St Pauls

 more suits in laneways

 barbecoa bangers - porky goodness

 monmouth does coffee like home, but with better sugar - its become a pilgrimage each visit

 lunchers in covent garden - ignoring the operatic warblings from the soprano in the corner (out of shot)

cliched, iconic - told you i was a tourist.

three from home

 my home town specialises in these rotten bad boys - but i love them, with each crunch you feel your arteries close a little more.

old times - im seated at the exact table i used to sit at before work, 7 years ago. coffee is still terrible.

halfway home

in both directions - its been fun, an odd and confusing time too, pulled in by so many things here...i forgot how much i love my coastline, whether it delivers or not

down lanes and around corners are covers and points and things

here she is - not delivering

and pubs, i love the pub, despite not being a huge drinker, if i came back home, i reckon i could and would convert, there is something homely and relaxing, a place to stay all day - characters and crosswords and cheese plates and chess filling the time nicely.

here is my favorite, with Busting down the Door playing in the background...

 

and last but not least - true to my word, i stickered the town - i mean really stickered it - so murf, here's to you...

one of many that found there way onto North Devon signage.

 

wishes

i wish i could shake this odd feeling...it ephemeral - impossible to define today, articulation is just out of m grasp - but its unsettling me

also, much more pressing...i wish i took this picture...

how awesome is this
Photograph by Mark Tipple

warm beer

only an expat knows the feeling....

its hard being away from home, both of my homes - but in the spirit of truly attempting to remain present in the moment, experiencing life as it happens, ive allowed a whole host of wanted and unwanted emotions to bubble away since being here - driving along old streets, memories, reminders of my past - acutely reminds me of the hardest thing in being away from home, cues.

As you walk about the town/village/city/country from where you hail, tiny, minute cues trigger conscious and unconscious memories, some of which you dwell upon, others you dismiss - but this is a constant, always happening on some level. Moving away from your country, those cues vanish, its hard to define, like capturing smoke, but this is the thing that's the hardest - your past relies solely in your conscious recall.

Now not, right now, sitting in the conservatory of mums house, listening to wood pigeons, and starlings tweet and chirp, memories are stirred of childhood, tree-houses, wood fires, hay baling, long hot drives to crammed coastal towns annually. and every day so far, the same - so i'm sucking it all in, storing it away, remembering so i can later remember.

and...beer gardens...i've traveled wide and far through my life, but nothing beats a English beer garden in unseasonably warm spring afternoon sunshine...

life and death

a mornings walk, the spring is springing here -

 life

death