Sunday, 20 February 2011


I've lived in my flat for just over four years, since I moved back to the city of my birth. It's the place where my family are and some of my friends. I came back to help care for sick parents. Sold a place I loved, in a place I loved and bought a flat here.

It's never felt like home. It's somewhere I've been living. Somewhere that I always hoped, thought, would be temporary. It was a choice I made, but not one that I sought out. A duty, conscience at play. But, here I am.

I spent some of the money I made on the old place making this cheaper one mine. New kitchen, bathroom, shower room. Apart from my spare bedroom, I haven't finished decorating a single room. Each needs something doing. Mostly it's small things.

The shower room door was sanded down ready for painting months ago, albeit three years after the tiling and everything else were finished. It would take me a just few hours to paint the damned ceiling and door. Still, I haven't done it.

I have only hung one picture. It's a map of Scotland. It used to hang in my office, then in my old bathroom. I'd gaze at it whilst I was on the bath and wonder where I'd travel to next.

However, in the past few months something has shifted. Maybe I've just accepted that this place is my fate for now. I've been using up some annual leave days this week. I've drunk coffee, lunched, seen friends and family, caught up with myself, slept.

I have also hung three pictures and painted my bathroom ceiling.

Maybe this place will be home soon.

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