I’ve been back in England a few weeks now, and the novelty of being here is already starting to fade into memory. I’d been away for 21 months, traveled to 21 countries via 16 buses, 31 trains, 7 boats and 6 planes, but this time there didn’t seem to be any culture shock waiting for me at the airport. The main thing that has surprised me on previous journeys “home” has been my sudden ability to listen to and understand the conversations of strangers. This time the only surprise was the drunken tramp on the flight. I didn’t know they traveled.

Here’s my first sight of England. Notice how the clouds cling to the coast of our island.

Home is now Harrow, since my mother moved here from Worcester last year. There’s a good chance I’ll never go to Worcester again – something I’ll shed no tears for. Harrow’s not bad. For starters it’s a lot closer to the centre of London than I thought, and the selection of food available nearby is fantastic.
My main occupation has been looking for summer jobs, but aside from that I’ve spent a week in Herefordshire visiting my dad, an afternoon at the Hay Festival, a couple of days in Cardiff visiting my old friend Gwen, a weekend in Liverpool with my Grandma, and an evening in Chester with my sister and her boyfriend. To be fair I should write something more about these, but I really can’t muster up the energy.

View from my window in Harrow.

Hay-On-Wye Literary Festival.

Herefordshire.

Gwen’s shop in Cardiff.