Listening to: Beautiful Day (Levellers)
Weather in Shropshire: cold and grey
Weather on Westray: cold and sunny
I'm like a caged wild animal. I feel trapped, suffocated, restricted. I'm rattling at the bars and the end of the week, in some ways, can't come soon enough.
Now don't get me wrong, it has been wonderful seeing The Boy and The Youngest, some of my old friends and tomorrow night there is a quiet drink with my brother-in-law and stepson to look forward to.
But I've been surprised at how odd I feel returning after only five months to a place which has been my home for most of my adult life. That's the point, I suppose. It isn't my home any more. I haven't got anywhere to call my own when everything else is so familiar and, as a result, I feel detached.
I'm desperately uncomfortable with all the crap and bullshit that goes with town life. The noise, the crowds, the rules, the traffic, the expense. I drove onto Sainsburys car park the other day and had something verging on a panic attack when I couldn't find a parking spot. I met my brother-in-law after he finished work on Friday evening and the pub was heaving with Christmas party-goers. I had the desperate feeling I wanted to stand on the table and scream "shut the fuck up, you ugly bastards, I can't hear myself think".
So it's fair to say I'm homesick. I miss the dogs, the pigs, the sea, the wind and I miss Sal. She warned me I'd hate it here and, as usual, she was right.
On the upside, The Youngest and I enjoyed a homecooked Christmas dinner yesterday. Large amounts of everything (we'll be eating it all week), a box of Quality Street while we watched the Monty Python DVD she bought me, followed by late evening cheese and pickles. Yes, the dreams were vivid.
I had been worried about how she would take to me moving away, but she's been remarkably level-headed about it and she's reacted to my return much in the way you greet someone who'd just popped out to the shops. Teenagers. . . they have to be so cool, don't they?