Home is where the heart is

Finally back in Brighton. Finally back home.

I had such a good holiday. It was the first time in two years I got away, and
the first time in near on a decade I had a holiday I enjoyed.

Not only does Scotland rock, England rocks! When I had my flit to Holland, I
thought I did it because I hated England. I didn't. I just hated Windsor and
my life. How come it took 8 years to realize that?

I love Brighton. It's one of the few places that feel like home. My flat
doesn't feel like home, but the city feels like home. As soon as I passed
those big stone pillars miles out of town that say "Brighton", I felt like I
was home. Weird, innit?

I had the time of my life on my holiday. Went up West England, then up to West
Scottland and Skye, then back down the East coast. Except for a few excersions
to Yorkshire, Devon and Wales, I hadn't seen any of my home country other than
Sussex, Surrey and Berkshire. Just saying those counties makes me feel middle
class - wish I had the money to live up to that.

On the way back, I brought a sword. A short sword with a scabbard. It pleases
me.. I've always wanted a sword. No idea how to enjoy it without getting
arrested for it (my long coat is long enough to cover the scabbard!), but I'll
work it out.

While away anyway, I wrote 40 pages of my book (finally!) and.. did little
else. I just chilled. Hardly any drinking, a smoke or two to ease the long
journeys. I escaped life, and it was damned fun!

At the same time, I'm so glad to be home. I'm even more glad to realize that I
think of somewhere as home.