Day 679: Home (10th April)

I never thought I’d say it, but I’m home.

This Tiu is my actual friend!

Since I decided to fly back, I have used the phrase ‘back to the UK’, not ‘home’, because England has never felt like home to me. I don’t dislike it. I see its benefits and its blessings, but I never felt my roots.

On April 2^nd, flying home, I was met at the airport by a creature beyond compare, the inimitable Tiu de Haan (she is English-ish, with lots of refugee influence from other parts of Europe, and she has the best name in the world ever according to me and Fatboy Slim). She was a very tired girl, but she dragged herself all the way to Heathrow to be the first person ever to meet me off the plane on my way home. That gesture in itself went deeper than I could have realised, and then to top it all, we got to talk. That whole TFL trip back up to North London, Tiu was with me. I got to have a proper go on her. It was mint.

Next stop my cousin Ruth, ready to welcome me into her home and give me a bed and a hearth while I found my own. A wonderful homecoming to see her, laugh with her, enjoy her in person rather than as half a face on Skype, wifi permitting. The pond, although I didn’t make full use of it (9 degrees, straight off a long haul flight from Colombia? I thought it would be kinder to myself to wait) was a sense of landing too.

Ari (dog) doesn't give a shit about me, but he's cute.

I was visited on Sunday (3^rd) by a suspicion that I might be a character in a children’s novel who had a huge adventure and then wakes up, thinking ‘did I dream the whole thing?’ and then finds a dragon’s scale, a fairy’s hair or some mark or other that proves that no, distant and surreal as it seems, the adventure did occur.

I met with Nick (a peach from earlier in my London life), my friend-brother-inspiration Rob - missed an appointment, so delighted I was to see him – and then off to Paris with my utter favourites, Frank Partners. This time I had the pleasure of Adam and Tina. We Eurostarred, rehearsed, prepared and relaxed. We waited, drank coffee and ate tiny pastries and a vol-au-vent luncheon, then did a zinging forum theatre piece. I felt grateful to be welcomed back in such a way, with joy and playfulness (everyone working that day, in Paris, New York and Newbury, was tasked with sending each other photos and lovely messages, which we did), and lovely people. The next day only Sarah FFing Lonton on my plate, a whole two hours or so, just talking, enjoying, planning, being. Delicious.

It's only KATH JONES!

And then Bristol called, and my sweet soul sister Kath Jones. We have communicated not quite every day since I left England. She is my rock and my heart-holder and there she was, Actual Kath Jones, in the proper flesh, to play with, dance with, love. YES!!!! And she lives with a baby (not hers) so I had a hold or seven of him, sang to him, enjoyed his babyness. And then (how much better can it get?) I went to see beloved Ruth and David, WITH KATH (I almost popped). It was so nice to be there that we didn’t leave, but stayed an extra day and (get this) a whole bunch of other wonderful friends visited to hang out. Another Rob to play with, an Anna, an Eddie and a few other sweet souls. We made music. We sat together. We ate and talked and enjoyed ourselves.

By mistake, I sat between Ruth and Eddie as they sang. What a fine mistake to make! My very own live stereo in perfect, lilting harmony, in a room filled with some of my favourite people. Good God, universe, what did I do to deserve this? And I got to play in the way I like to play the best, and I am grateful, grateful, grateful.

View from my new room

I almost couldn’t bear to leave, so I accepted Ruth and David’s offer of a room, so this place and these people will be my home while I am here. I can’t quite get my head around that, but I give thanks. It was hard to leave Kath and Bristol, but going back meant more Tiu time, and Kate, lovely Greg and Ari and cousin Ruth again. It meant JP and Yvonne Tonk in Victoria station. And all this? That’s just the people here. I’ve heard from many fabulous souls across the world (and especially in South America) over the last weeks too.

And as if that wasn’t enough, I spent a magical weekend, full of yoga, love and deepest friendship, with my beloved Lilley, Daniel and their daughter Tulsi. Home is not the place, but the people. From this trip I learned that I can make my home in any bed, in any valley, in any place on earth by finding myself in that place and holding hands with friends, opening up for them to show me who there are, whether I’ve met them before or not.

Not mine, I'm afraid

Coming back, I see with clearer eyes the beauty of this place and I feel my roots, possibly for the first time, in this soil. I feel my heart come alive in the hearts of those I love here, in the humour of this place and in its strange formality, mixed with irreverent laughter. I see the trees with different eyes, and celebrate their buds and blossoms, the new green leaves making their entrance for the year. I feel myself welcomed, held and loved. I feel at home.

Does that mean I’ll never leave again? Of course not. Does it mean I’ll keep England as my base? Not necessarily. But does it mean I’m home? Yes it does.

I’m home within myself and in this place, right now, and I am rich with friends, familiarity and love. What more could home entail in this moment? This is abundantly, beautifully, and very Britishly, enough.