So home. Where some of the heart is.

One of the fantastic things of being home after a year, is seeing people who mean a lot, but had been busy getting on with their lives, whilst you were in South America making paths half the world away. London has grown and changed and shrunk in my absence, as cities do, and it's great to see the various 'Londons' of people you care about

There's that moment , the "So.... a year. Fuck. Where do we start?"
And then you both laugh and then you're off... It's you and me and us as much as it ever was. And a year or a month or a week away, both makes it and breaks it; changes nuances and stories; but tends to leave the whole intact.

Tends to leave the whole intact. Not always. Sometimes that year or a month or a week away creates a massive chasm the seems to never be bridged. But when bridges never build well, or are burnt, of just washed away, it's never really the bridges fault: it's generally the fault of those who built them first time round.

And maybe one of the nicest things of being back, is that whilst we are repaving and remodeling and rethinking all the old bridges, we get chances to make new ones. New bridges, new paths, new stories, that aren't tarnished by the knowledge that this is all temporary.

Because this time, this time, mama's back!