Sat in 'The Eastern' our local Indian Take Out waiting for our Chicken Korma, Chicken Balti and pilau rice, (ok and poppodoms, chapati and a nan) I tried to work out my feelings as to being back after a good two week holiday.
I gazed out into the street through reversed flickering neon into the world that is home. I see the same faces of those that periodically wander into our church looking food - staggering and lurching up the street. I see an African family carrying their provisions for the night. I look at the bus queue and see every nationality waiting for the D6. As I gaze out into my world I talk cricket with the Bengali waiter I see three or four police cars 'blue lighting' through the dense traffic. Hours before we were camping in West Wight on the Isle of Wight - now we are back and I wonder what I feel.
The next day I am ploughing my way through emails and piles of washing when there is a knock at the door. I knew who it was before I opened the door. I'd heard him when he was way down the street.
"Gor----don.... Gordon.... Gooooooooooorrrrrrrrrr ddddooooon"
I often wonder what our neighbours think when Patrick calls.
I open the door and before I can say hello Patrick "so a vicar and a nun are getting married.......what are you going to do about that one?"
Patrick is there beaming, outstretched in his hand a week-old paper he has saved from a bin in the market for me. He continues with some nonsense involving a wooden submarine and the Isle of Wight - "did you have a nice time...I'm glad you're back!"
He shakes my hand and he is gone chuckling his way down our street.
I feel welcomed back and I am glad to be back.