So in a few weeks I’ll finally make the long overdue hop across the pond to remind the family that I *do* exist in a physical state, and not just an entity that posts Facebook status updates.
It’s been over two years since I’ve been back. 2 years and five months now that I think about it.
It’s strange, you always assume you’ll miss your home town. That you’ll miss the little creature comforts and familiarity of your surroundings. People ask me about that all the time. “What do you miss?” or “You must miss your family, right”?
The truth is, there’s not really anything about the UK I miss. Nothing which would provide an amusing little answer to the oft asked question. This surprised me as much as anybody. I’ve racked my brains, I really have.
As for missing my family, I don’t know.. they’re in my pocket all the time. It’s not hard to keep in touch with people. You can skype, you can buy each other presents online, you can send them amusing messages at any hour of the day, and from anywhere. It’s not as if “going away” really means disappearing. Not any more.
For a while I’ve been quite apathetic about going back. In conversation I’ve implied that I’m doing it out of courtesy, as if it’s a chore. I’ve rolled my eyes and said that yes, while hugging the folks and petting the cats will be nice, I’ll be bored within 48 hours and silently resenting half a month’s pay on a plane ticket.
The closer it get’s though, the more that attitude melts away and the more excited I become. Small things occur to me. People I could surprise. Places I could visit. Familiar sights and sounds. None of which will be life changing, but all of which will be good for me.
I’m sure that as I walk through arrivals I’ll get smacked in the face by nostalgia. Small stuff. Copper coins. Dialling codes. Licence plates.
I wonder if I’ll feel like a visitor.
Completely out of it. No friends in sight. He started throwing up so I got him on his side, put my hoody over him and called an ambulance.
Flagged down a passing cop car who are taking care of him. Dude managed to spew on my hoody. Told the cops he can keep it. Gross.
Have you ever stepped outside and suddenly found yourself mentally transported to another place and time from you life?
I’m not trying to be poetic. I think most people know what I mean. It’s the combination of the time of day, the smell in the air, the temperature, the ambient sounds. It’s really potent. You just get hit with a feeling of pretty vague nostalgia simply by taking a couple of deep breaths and letting yourself daydream.
or maybe I’m just thinking too much.
So it seems it only takes 4 pints of Magners for me to feel like texting my ex.
So it seems I only need two consecutive day off to completely fuck up any sort of sleeping pattern I once had.
I don’t normally wear toques “just because”, but I had a store credit for Topman and this was about $5.