As Close As Possible to Home

This little entry is unlikely to be a particularly happy one, though I am in fairly good humour at the moment. I have returned home from my trip to Ireland, or as close to home as I can get at the moment. The last time I actually had a place I could really call home it was a rather shabby, run-down one-bedroom house with a gas fire as the only heating for most of it, a gas stove as the only cooking implement, several items from my various collections hanging from the wall, and second-hand furniture scavenged from various charity shops.

In case you have not worked it out yet, I am talking about when I used to actually have my own place, even if it was rented. You have no idea how much I miss that, just being completely independent.

It has got to the point several times that I have thought about simply vanishing, becoming one of those people who simply vanish in a puff of statistics and low-priority missing person cases and see what I could do.

Not going to happen ofcourse, at least not any time soon. I have too much to do first.