There’s no place, home

It was mid-December – I think 1993 – I was driving back to Surrey having finished the term at University. Somewhere around Horsham, Chris Rea’s “Driving home for Christmas” came on the radio. Whilst one of those benign Christmas songs, something quite painful struck me. “Was I driving home?”. I now lived my life in …

Going easy on myself

It has been a few weeks since writing. It wasn’t my intention to take this break, it just happened: the inevitable consequence of finding myself squeezed and stretched by life ‘happening’; a combination of things across personal and professional. Helping my parents move from their flat, the end of the academic year, the marking of …