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It is said that life is made up of so many moments, but a life story is divided up into chapters, and it is a truely wonderful thing when you catch yourself and realise that this part of your life right now is just a phase, and that it will pass.
England
I experienced this for the first time when I was living and working in Leicester in England. I used to travel up to Nottingham every weekend to visit a dear friend there, and her circle of friends, who also became dear to me. I loved those weekends, which often consisted of little more than sitting around in Liz’s living room, passing a spliff and drinking cups of tea while watching Robot Wars or playing Tony Hawks Pro Skater. I used to try to drag everyone out to the local pub, the Lord Neilson, as I’ve always had a love of drinking in pubs, and I was often successful.
I remember the reverence and the ritual associated with preparing a cup of tea, as well as the occasional wild clubbing nights and house parties (I learned to play the decks in that house). The association in my memory is overwhelmingly one of comfort and safety and contentment. That share-house, and that living room especially, was such a home to me in that land where I didn’t have a home, and even the circuit of the larger town felt like a place that I belonged.
