happily homeless

. . . intentionally homeless now . . . and reflecting on home and place . . . my first home was a tied cottage on an estate near Ringwood, Hampshire . . . Dad was a carpenter on the estate . . . when I was five we moved to a smallholding on the edge of Verwood, Dorset . . . fields and woods were on the doorstep and were our playground . . . I moved away when I was seventeen . . . my elder sister, Linda, lives there now and though the place holds good memories, I am not attached to it . . . having wandered in and out of many homes since then and even co-owned two of them, I never really understood them . . .which was reflected in my lack of enthusiasm for DIY . . . landing in Stanhope on an outing from Newcastle over twenty years ago, I felt immediately at home, though it was fifteen years since I lived here . . . looping time perhaps? Now I am off wandering I leave it gladly and when people ask if I will return, my honest response is I don't know . . . I am not coming back and I am not not coming back . . . and of all the places I have lived so far, Stanhope is closest to home and I am happy to know I am welcome here . . .