Home
I’ve got my foot up. I hurt it t’other day when I trod on a toy, and thought it was OK but now – two days later, FFS – it hurts like a farking bastard and I can barely stand on it. So I’ve been told to put it up. Rest it in an elevated position. Cushions a-go-go. Ouch-o-rama. Bloody bastard cunting foot. And all that.
Right now, this very moment, it is resting on a snoozing man. Very comfortable. Warm. Better than a cushion. A welcome addition to my dwelling. Goes with my furnishings. House-trained. Will take the bins out for me. Cooks delicious fajitas. Yeah – better than a cushion, any day.
The man is a guest in my house. Has been for the last few weeks. He will leave tomorrow. To go back to his house.
Neither of us feel like we have a home. Indeed, we’re both questioning what makes a home a home.
I might have to leave this house soon. I can’t afford to live here and my landlady likes to be paid rent so I’m obliged to sort something out. At the moment, my solutions include: a) living in the park, and b) writing to Benedict Cumberbatch and asking if Moo and I could lodge in his pantry. I’m guessing neither of these options will be feasible, really. Especially seeing as I’m supposed to stay fifty feet away from BenCum at all times, the spoilsport.
I thought the likelihood of me losing this house would increase its homeliness but that has not been the case. In fact, it just makes it easier to begin the process of letting go. It’s not like I’ve been here years. It’s not like it’s been in my family for generations. The walls are only walls. The bathroom is mouldy. The yard is a concrete woodlouse palace. A home should feel special, right? A building that embraces you, yeah? Something that you put love into and get love out of? Dunno. In my head, when I think of home, I get images of a place that doesn’t exist for me. A house with room and light, with a library in a turret, and Moo’s sticky hand prints everywhere.
They say, ‘home is where the heart is’ and I say, bollocks. The ‘they’ who say that have somewhere nice to live. They probably have the luxury of feeling secure and grounded. Lucky bastards. Home, for me, will be a building that I own, filled with the people that I love and want to share my life with, and adorned with all the colourful shit that I’ve accumulated over the years. If that makes me shallow for attaching sentiment to material things, then so be it.
Of course, there are good memories here. Moo’s first steps, her first birthday, her first proper Christmas. Anything she has done here, actually, makes it special in some way. But it is only temporary. I still have bags and boxes of belongings stacked about, which adds to the aura of pervading transience. Are we already on our way to elsewhere? Who knows. If I could, and if I had the means, I’d be out of here tomorrow, to try and find that elusive home.
Anyway.
My man-cushion has moved now, to pastures more conducive to his desire for sleep. Another tetherless soul. Both of us unbound by the bastards of circumstance.
What is ‘home’ for you? Are you where you want to be? And can we come and live in your pantry?
When we first got married we had no choice but to move to this teeny little town that I knew nothing about and I really hated it. I reasoned I had my car though and got out as much as I could… But I never really liked coming “home” to it because it wasn’t my home. Then when I got pregnant I was forced to spend more time actually in it. Before then I didn’t even know where half the supermarkets were!
3 Years on I’ve finally settled … How slow is that???
LOL I hope you feel at home now
In the last 8 years I have lived in 8 ‘homes’. Whilst I wouldn’t yet call where we currently live home, I so want it to be, whether or not we will be permitted to stay thanks to the several changes in circumstances over the last couple of months forcing us into arrears remains to be seen. This is the closest I feel like home because I can truly see us growing as a family here, although probably more metaphorically than literally! I like the location although in an ideal world I would prefer to be closer to my family but that’s more because I don’t drive I think! The chances of us ever being able to afford to live in Redland or Clifton are slim to none though, unless I get that lottery win. But then I need to be able to afford to buy a ticket in the first place…
I hear ya. If I win the lottery I’ll buy you that place in Clifton. Promise
Aw thank you! Well we ended up buying TWO tickets tonight. So between us the husband and I are bound to win right? And when we do I promise to buy you a house too.
YAY!
It sounds cheesy I know but home is where my boys are. Our house isn’t very big & we don’t have expensive things but it’s our bubble, our safe haven away from hospitals & that strange world out there that makes us feel different. I’m lucky to love my home. Yes we own it, along with the mortgage company, but I don’t think that’s why I love it. I love it because I share it with Chris and Samuel and that’s enough for me. My home IS where my heart is. X
I’m so glad you have that. Truly X
I’ve had six homes in ten years, a couple by choice, most by force of circumstance. None has felt like home until I cleaved the sod with my pickaxe and planted beans. If you don’t have sod to cleave, you’re buggered!
LOL I have NO SOD. I have concrete. This is possibly my problem, then. I need sod. And FAST.
Home to me is my Mums house. The house I grew up in. I came home from university every weekend (a two hour drive) because I was so homesick there. Obviously I no longer live with my Mum. I now live a whole two streets away in exactly the same kind of house. So I guess I feel at home here now too. A bit clingy maybe but I’m happy here (and lucky to have a OH give in to me to buy me a house so close to my Mums lol poor man).
Aaahhhh but that’s lovely, I think. I’ve returned to my home city cos I missed it so much, and live about half an hour’s walk from my mum’s house. Sadly not in the house I grew up in, but that’s not too far away either. I have so many good memories of that place so maybe that’s what I want from a home.
You can come and live in my pantry. Well, I don’t have a pantry but if I did you could. I think a lot about this “home” thing. I see very clearly what home is through my 3 yr olds eyes just now. You see we’ve just moved so trying to make sure he feels we are home now is a daily requirement. He finds it hard. He has only ever known one place to be home and the concept of moving home is completely alien to him. This is all new to me. I’m a novice at the “home” business , probably only really grasped it since my first was born. As a child I had so many homes I learnt not to worry about it. Divorced parents, broke and un-anchored mother. I think she was always looking for the perfect home, much as you describe it. Anyway, I’m doing my best to reassure my poor lost boy that home is where we, his family, are. It’s hard though.
I hope you and moo find home, or at least a lovely pantry soon.
Thank you. I think you are doing totally the right thing, it must be so confusing for little children to move house. I really hope your boy settles in soon. Best wishes.
Home for me is where my family is. My kiddos and my hubby that’s all I need, although a roof over the head is a nice thing. As far as where I want to be…a mansion would be nice but I have a better chance of being struck by lightning. Of course you can come live in my pantry, it’s quite spacious actually.
*gets on a plane*
We have to move too, and we can’t afford anywhere or they won’t take kids, or don’t want anyone with housing benefit- which we get a bit of our rent paid by even tho my other half works bloomin hard cos rent is shockingly high where I live. I hope Mr Cumberbatch has a large pantry. I bet his pantry has an open fire, and nice bookshelves, and lots of cake. Plus- he looks like he doesn’t eat much so he prob won’t even notice we are all there. We will be like 21st century borrowers. And make beds from giant match boxes. ACE. (sshhh don’t say unrealistic- that’s definitely my new plan and I thank you for your genius idea)
You have taken my idea and brought it to fruition. That’s it, I am breaking the terms of my court order and moving into BenCum’s pantry with you and yours. I want to be a borrower now. Let’s go.