Arrived home last night after a Month in England visiting my family.
Hadn't seen my parents for 3 years, but it was like it'd only been a few days.
Caught up with all the rest of the extended family too, saw a few sites, had a lot of pub lunches and many many pints of beer (it's so cheap over there!).
So am I glad to be home? Er, not really. Allow me too explain, my landlord is selling the house I am living in, so currently all my stuff is packed up in boxes, the house has been painted inside and out, and new carpet laid (it really needed it) and all the clutter has gone. It's odd, I'm home, but it doesn't FEEL like my home...
...still, I might manage to get some new art up in the next week or so, so it's not all bad.
Listening to: Wind rustling in the trees
Reading: Hess by John Harris