Tiny planet

If I had to pick one word to describe this year, it would be 'travel', eleven countries, some more than once, have filled up the space between January and now and I'm so grateful for the experiences I've had and the grace and generosity of the people I met along the way. This last week in Singapore was a reminder of that, a little taste of somewhere I called 'home' for a short time, and I felt so privileged to be able to come back and see old friends. The world has decreased in size this year... a seven hour flight is now considered a short hop, and saying goodbye to my friends here didn't have the sting I thought it would, because I know I'll see them again soon. The miles between us are a barrier, but only in thought.

If I'm honest, going back to London has been tough, harder than I would ever have imagined. I feel unsettled, itchy to go away again, especially now that I know I can do it, I won't fall apart, and the fear is decreased. I lie in bed at night and dream of moving to Hong Kong, Tokyo, New York, Melbourne, somewhere far from dark winter nights and expensive tube fares. But the grass is always greener! I know that I need to be at home for a time to rest and rethink what the future holds. I wonder if I'll ever feel settled again... friends who have travelled often say that going away gives you a perpetual feeling of restlessness and disatisfaction with your own culture, yet there are things that I love about my homeland... walking on the Southbank, the light at 4pm in winter, tea with friends after work. For now I'll be content with London, like an old jersey, soft thin wool stroking a tired wrist, an old friend.