|ah, the memories!|
In some ways, it's the bugbear of being an expat - travel usually means back 'home', and then when 'home' there's a slew of family to get round. If you're lucky, they are all in one place since you are the only black sheep who dared to stray; if not, then it's time to burn rubber. Some expat families have hundreds of kilometres to cover for each duty visit; I'm lucky - most of my family and friends are within a couple of hours drive at most, so the 'duty visits' are actually a pleasure*.
|wheels! brand new six-miles-on-the-clock wheels!|
Every single time I come back to Northumberland, I feel like I'm coming home. It's where I bought my first house, settled for more than a few months, met mr ebb ... I have very good memories of this county as it's where I started being myself as a young adult. I arrived here at the tail-end of a brutal relationship, gaining the courage to call it quits in the face of physical violence, then slowly and surely pulled my shredded confidence together. I worked through three stressful jobs in the area. I lived by myself for a couple of years. I made new friends and they in turn, changed my life around.
|home ground - OK, technically Tyne & Wear but close enough!|
Northumberland is home home to me, and it feels good to be back.
*Point to note: unless you've been in the expat situation, no - you really don't have an inkling of what this all means, so quit any bitching.