Feels strange to feel homesick for a place I'd only lived in for 7 years where most of the inhabitants were unfriendly. Here I am in the Cotswolds, with beautiful scenery and honey coloured houses, working in some of the most magnificent properties owned by the National Trust, and all I want to do is go home.
I think it would ease the pain of life to look out the window and see the cows in the field opposite trying to clamber into the front garden, to hear Sue next door hoovering at 8 am just before she went to work. Go into my back garden and see the sea and everyones coloured towels flapping in the sea breeze. To see my dear cats in the garden, my Rose Samson and Sabrina. Have my son come down for his holidays. Sit on the sticky Sennen sand and look for the mer-people who are supposed to sing there at sunset. A land of magic. Bereavement after bereavement - I don't know how much more I can take.
I spent all day writing yesterday which was a good day for me, and the sun is shining cold and bright today,
I have an interview next week for the Natural History Museum. We are buying a tiny weeny bungalow in a village on the borders of Oxfordshire and Warwickshire - we moved up to be nearer friends and family and so my husband could work - but I have no-one here now in this neck of the manicured woods, a few new friends that I hardly see and some old ones who live just as far away.
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