Since moving to University in September 2015 (wow has it really been that long), I have had two homes. It’s a strange one, I guess you can’t really describe it and you’ll only really know the feeling if you are in the same position. It’s the weird mixture of being at peace in two places, sad to leave both but happy to arrive at either. I guess I can’t compare them, “home” home is where I grew up, the same house I was brought from the hospital to, at only hours old, the place where all my childhood memories were formed, the roads I know with my eyes closed, the gossip about the locals which is so uninteresting but I find thrilling. The place where the food is incredible, the towels smell so fresh and the carpet is a dream to walk on barefoot. But whenever I sit on that train to the sea, I feel an overwhelming sense of a second home. It’s where I made my own life, away from the parents and with Brighton being such a great place, it could never not be home.The most important thing for me is to make the place I call home a true representation of me. By making where I live the nicest it can be does stop nearly all feelings of homesickness. Having my own personal space where I can come back to and relax whenever I have had a stressful day is something I need. I try my hardest to keep the flat clean, tidy and instagrammable…. and just generally a place I love coming home to and having friends over at. Dinner parties and Mario Kart tournaments are all the rage in our flat at the moment and I could not be happier.
One thing in life I know for sure is that no matter where I end up, I will always call London my true home. The other week I was sat on a crowded underground, (only true Londoners manage to get those seats in rush hour so HA) and then had to struggle my way through South Kensington station to change lines, something which I have done countless times. I was lost in thought at the time, probably deliberating what I hoped was for dinner, and found myself navigating my way around the crowds, down the wrong one-way only tunnel (because we all know that’s the quicker way) and I wasn’t even thinking. My feet were taking me where I needed to go and in that moment I knew I was home. It sounds odd and I accept that judging look you are currently giving me, but I am sure we all have those auto-pilot moments, like being able to not bump into anything on the way to the bathroom in the middle of the night. I hate the London Underground when it’s busy, but I really do often miss it.
But as much as part of me does always miss London, I don’t long to always be there. It’s a weird thing when you make a second home, you feel guilty for leaving one and cannot possibly choose a favourite. That would be like choosing your favourite dessert, or movie, impossible!!! Right now I know I am meant to be by the beach and I would not swap it for anything. Being so so close to London it still means I am able to feel its magnetic pull every once in a while and I can easily pop home for a night if I want to, but I am definitely somewhere that I can see myself in for longer than just my University years. Preferably there would be less seagulls and far fewer tourists but you can’t have it all.