You get to a certain point when you think that you’ve passed all of the homesickness bullshit.

You don’t wake up every morning feeling like you’re in the wrong bed, you’ve gotten used to bi-monthly phone-calls to friends instead. You’ve started recognising the people that used to be strangers and you don’t have to explain the word craic every time you use it. Home is still home, will always be home, but somehow you’ve managed to make this place you’ve been blown feel like home even if it’s “only for a little while”, “I won’t be staying long”.

And then swiftly, suddenly and completely unexpectedly, homesickness comes back seemingly out of nowhere to roundhouse kick you in the heart.

From  now on I will be attempting weekly posts on a Tuesday. We’ll see how that goes.


On Cafés – For Tosh

Funnily enough when I think of cafes I always think of you. Sure I’d been in cafes before and I liked the well enough (Hell, I’ve wanted to work in one for as long as I can remember) but you were the one who really opened my eyes to their glory and potential of them. And so now, through a logical association cafes make me think of you.


There are a lot of cafes in Stroud, there’s the obligatory Costa, there’s a few little classy coffee bars, then there’s the big three, Mills, Woodruffs and Star Anise. Really it depends on what you’re looking for. I’m a Star Anise person, and not just because I work there. It’s the vegetarian café, the “Steiner Diner”, it’s basically the hub of my social life right now. It’s where I’m writing this now.

I think you might be more of a Woodruffs person to be honest, I don’t know why. I guess it has much more anonymity than Star to my mind, and in my mind that’s slightly more your style.

There’s a new café called Black Book and it’s the kind of place I want to own. I write there and read there, it’s my quiet place, not my social place. And they do a damn good soya hot chocolate.


But at the base of all this there is you, taking me out to cafes when I’d been dumped, when I was emigrating and leaving my life behind, when we just wanted somewhere to hide from the rain or chat or write or just be. I remember just before I left I showed you how I could make paper cranes out of folding money (Admittedly coins would be far more impressive) and you said that I should find a café, go in there all the time, maybe teach them how to do it and then pay them with a paper crane. So today, in honour of you, I shall do just that.

You made cafés special for me. So thank you.