On Returning

And so i'm back. Having just looked over the previous post, all those worries feel very unnecessary. Even to the point I had to keep reminding myself Japan was NOT a dream from the second day of being home, it was all too easy to slip back into being British Me. I think it must be something to do with the cider.

Arriving into London was depressing - I have decided I will never do this again. (Hopefully getting the trans siberian express home and then the ferry from Amsterdam-South Shields!!!) I momentarily questioned what the hell i'd done to leave comfortable (i'm not talking about the weather), safe, quiet, calm, accomodating Japan to walk straight into hostile lonely isolating London. However, I reminded myself that this was LONDON, not ENGLAND, not the England we all know and love and embrace, but a different entity in itself. Things perked up immediatly when Kirsty met me on the train in York to surprise me with a BIG can of scrumpy, and really it all goes on from there in the same manner. Every day was filled with cider, with friends, with love, with food, with everything i'd left a year ago and was so happy to come back to, reminding me who I was when I got on the plane.

Of course there have been a few changes; babies born, houses bought, addition of more fabulous Greeks, but then most things are reassuringly still the same. Asking Hannah about the changes, she said "you know, Fenham is like neighbours, it doesn't matter if you miss like, a YEAR of episodes, you just need to watch a few to catch up again." And right she was.

Thank you everybody for 10 wonderful days, and delicious company/food/drink/playtime. See you all again next year when you come and meet me off the ferry in South Shields! (waaaaaay better than London I tell thee.)

Leaving Heathrow I got my flip flops scanned for bombs. FLIP FLOPS. How the hell do they suspect me of being a terrorist in flip flops??? I HATE Heathrow. I never want to step foot in the place again. Clearly they are trying to solve their problem of being the busiest airport in the world by being as rude and awkward and frustrating as possible, to make sure nobody steps foot inside the place after such an experience. I knew I was back in Japan when I arrived in the wonderful Fukuoka and all the customs guy did was compliment me on my (extremely poor) Japanese and ask me if I was carrying anything I needed to declare, and took my word for it when I said no, sending me on my way with a lovely smile and telling me to keep up the good word.

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