When I go to France I say I am going home.
When I leave France I say I am going back home.
One of the friends I saw that night, Jo, is Swedish. She moved to London aged 19, then to Paris five years ago. She doesn't miss Sweden, she misses London.
The weird life of expats.
Something I'll never know: what it feels like to be born, raised, live forever in the same place. To have childhood friends.
Next step is to find that special place that really will be my home.
But really the next immediate step is to do some bloody writing, thing I've been avoiding all day, setting up a new blog instead. tssk tssk! ;)