The Palace Park

The Palace Park

Thursday, 29 November 2012

When Autumn leaves start to fall...

Well, now brown cow. What to say when there is so much and so little all at once?

Your sister is a radiant beam of sass and laughter.

My darling Josephine has died so now, not only to I talk to dead people but I also scratch the bellies and ears of dead dogs. Despite my intentions, we did not have her stuffed or her skull carved into a place holder. It just wasn't the right time (when, I can hear your father in the background of my mind saying, when is it ever time to have a dog stuffed?!).

We have gone to America and come back. We have put our flat on the market and after two weeks, the flat is under offer at over the asking price. I am trying not to hyperventilate and that much is easy to avoid because I'm so tired, my bones so sore and my heart so full of exhausted  love and dread over trying to make ends meet (Novemeber is a month the belts are worn tighter), even that display of dramatics is above me.

We have gone to America and come back. We have gone to the country, twice. We have flown to Barbados and attended a lovely wedding and we've come home and I just don't even feel like London is home. How long has it been since this city -- which I love and love -- has felt like home? I can't even say. Keeping it light enough to travel is one thing, but every heart needs a home.

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