Where Is Home?

I have just got back from a wonderful visit back home to the UK to spend a bit of time with my family and friends. I loved my few weeks there just hanging out with the people I love, getting my fix on all the conveniences I otherwise live without. I indulge in it all – the good company, the food etc.. Maybe because it was sunny (a rarity in England), but everything just looked stunning – the victorian houses, the gardens in bloom, the wild flower areas in public parks, the Cafes and bistros that lined the streets full of people sitting outside; Wimbledon embracing the tennis, and Hampton Court the flower show and the lively River Thames. I feel so privileged that this is a place I can call home. And that’s got me thinking. Where exactly is home for me now? Is it the UK? Is it Wimbledon or Surbiton where I last lived in the UK? Is it the Caribbean – a particular island – like the one we have spent the most time in or like the best? What is the concept of ‘home’ when, in the last 12 years I have never stayed in one place more than 6 or 7 months?

My passport says that I am British and my country of birth is England. My family and most of my few remaining oldest friends are all in the UK and part of my heart always will be there. But I am not a resident in the UK or any other country. So does that make me an Alien, as all non-residents of any country are known? Am I a global citizen? Is that even a thing? Where do I belong and where can I call home?

My place of sanctuary, that little piece of space I call my own is wherever the boat and Sim are. Right now I’m lucky enough to call Grenada my home. I still pinch myself when I drive through the island marvelling at how beautiful it is. I love its lush tropical greenery and the small quaint houses. I love the roadsides dotted with colour from the brightly painted roundabouts, to the man selling bbq’d corn. The colourful but paint peeling shacks and the mango trees dripping with fruit. Only when you pass the rum factory is there a distinct foul odour from the effluent they discharge but otherwise the air is hot and sticky and filled with sweet aromas (ok this includes a bit of body sweat too!). It maybe, hot, sticky, buggy, slow paced, bureaucratic and inefficient but I love this beautiful and humble island and for the time being I feel happy and lucky to call it home.

My family - mu mum and dad and my two sisters Jenny and Ali and my niece (Ali's baby) Libby.

My favourites - Jilly, Kristin and Fee

My totally awesome and very cute niece Libby.

July was such a beautiful montn weather wise in the UK - above a little bit of Surrey.

Libby in all her awesomeness

My sisters and I get along really well.

It was great to be back in Grenada again and I somehow persuded Sim to do another hash with the promise of no hiils and a short hike....He was not impressed when we realised my info was wrong

But the views were awesome and the countryside gorgoeus as always.

Despite the hills and the 5km hike we didnt finish last and Sim got to enjoy the cold beers at the end.

This is where I live - I have to pinch myself sometimes - how beautiful is that?

There we are on the other side of the bridge somewhere at the back of that big mass of boats in Hog Island.