Wednesday, 30 May 2012
Home is where your heart is happiest
Today I headed back to London after a week of rest at home in Dorset (as demanded by glandular fever and my mum).
It obviously didn't take me long to start missing home and all its fields, as I was barely inside my door before I was out again and heading to Brockwell Park. I sat quietly and happily at the top of the hill, enjoying the weather and the view and feeling like I was exactly where I was supposed to be.
In the mean time, I have lots of other places that I think of as home instead; places that I love and that feel somehow like mine, even if they belong to me even less than my Brixton bedroom.
You may not know it just from looking at it, but the bench at the top of the hill in Brockwell Park has Libby Page's name on it. So does a table in a cosy café in Brixton Market. In the Breakfast Club in Hoxton there is always a table waiting for me like an old friend. The Primrose Bakery in Covent Garden has cupcakes especially set aside for me. Columbia Road greets me each time I visit with floral kisses that say: "You're back! You're home."
In reality I know that I share these places with hundreds, thousands, millions of other people. But actually, that's what I love so much about London. It is anyone's, and everyone's.