Most of the time, we’re all here together doing the same old same old normal stuff. Life being life.

For the last few weeks, however, we’ve been gadding about. We visited Nana and Grandad and the caravan and The Brother, Arty Lady, Little Miss Pink for Now and Lightning McQueen. We’ve been in the big city and the empty beach.

There have been shows and nights out and hours just hanging out. Playing, chatting and exploring. It has been exciting, invigorating and heartwarming. We enjoyed spending time with those we love, doing nothing in particular.

But, on Saturday evening?

Four people fell in the door of their very ordinary house in a very ordinary street in a regular town small city.

We took comfort in the worn stair carpet and the gathering of dust. The bundles of books, clothes and mystery cables have the joy of familiarity. The bills could stay sealed another day.

We came home, and there’s nothing like it.


12 thoughts on “home

    1. Nothing so cultured, Kate- it’s Liberty. On the rare occassions I get to central London I like to go in one door and out another, stroking handbags on my way past. Sad, but true.

what do you think?

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s