That went well...

I had an azekeil visiting since Monday. He left at oh-gods-o-clock this morning and the house feels empty, even with two housemates downstairs in the living room.

I'm very happy overall, but currently unshinyficated and feeling a bit sorry for myself. But loved. And very lucky.

Normal service to resume...whenever.

That went well...

I had an azekeil visiting since Monday. He left at oh-gods-o-clock this morning and the house feels empty, even with two housemates downstairs in the living room.

I'm very happy overall, but currently unshinyficated and feeling a bit sorry for myself. But loved. And very lucky.

Normal service to resume...whenever.

*ponders*

Life conspired that two people asked me roughly the same question in the same timeframe and I've been mulling it over ever since. I tried in one case to give an idea, but it was not...complete.

Why did I want to move to England? Why have I always (and as mum and dad told me from before I personally can really remember) wanted to move and said I would?

The answer is short: I don't know. I honestly don't. Looking back, the question has always stumped me. I've never had an answer because it has never been a question to me. For some inconceivable reason, I have always wanted to do this. I have always known I would. It was not a dream or a desire, but rather a conviction that this is where I needed to be, where I belonged.

Yes, when I was younger I used to read English and we used to watch English telly. The humour was close to ours anyway (as a family, I mean) and I personally loved the language and watching the news. But I was interested because I was drawn to it. The interest was because of feeling this was where I was heading to, no matter what I did.

Growing up, both my sister and I experienced (along with my parents) a certain feeling. It has no Dutch or English equivalent that I am aware of, but Germans call it 'Fernweh', the opposite of home sickness. It's an ache to be elsewhere, usually a specific place, but it doesn't have to be. A need to be in a place that is not your home. Not because home is unpleasant or wrong, far from it. It is an entirely positive feeling, even though it aches not be elsewhere. It's the ache of not being with the one you love right now, but knowing that you will be shortly. It is not 'home away from home' though it has some of that resonance.

It feels as if part of you is not complete or possibly even missing when you're not there. I suppose most people for whom this rings a bell got this feeling after they'd already been somewhere. I just got it before I ever even set foot in England.

Landing at Stansted for the first time in the summer of 2005 was like coming home. I was hurt, bewildered and lost, but somewhere inside me a piece clicked into place and gave me a second centre inside myself after my main external one got unbalanced. For the first time ever, a bit I was not consciously aware of clicked into place, became visible and waved a little flag at me. And for a few minutes, nothing else mattered. All was well, even though the rest of my world had gone horribly wrong.

It was unlike anything I have ever felt before, and it is something no one will ever take away from me. This was where I needed to be and where I belonged. It's not because I didn't love The Netherlands. I did and do and I miss it quite often. But I appear to have two home countries.

So yes, looking at it from the outside, moving here in 2007 was my dream coming true. But to me it was more than that. Standing in the conservatory of the_ladylark and hobnobs's home (and now to be mine as well) with everything that fit in the boot and half the backseat of a Lexus on December 3rd 2007 was me coming home. Being hugged by hobnobs and told 'Welcome home,' was not a wish. It was a statement of fact.

So...Why did I want to move to England?

Because.

And I did. No one can ever change that.

*ponders*

Life conspired that two people asked me roughly the same question in the same timeframe and I've been mulling it over ever since. I tried in one case to give an idea, but it was not...complete.

Why did I want to move to England? Why have I always (and as mum and dad told me from before I personally can really remember) wanted to move and said I would?

The answer is short: I don't know. I honestly don't. Looking back, the question has always stumped me. I've never had an answer because it has never been a question to me. For some inconceivable reason, I have always wanted to do this. I have always known I would. It was not a dream or a desire, but rather a conviction that this is where I needed to be, where I belonged.

Yes, when I was younger I used to read English and we used to watch English telly. The humour was close to ours anyway (as a family, I mean) and I personally loved the language and watching the news. But I was interested because I was drawn to it. The interest was because of feeling this was where I was heading to, no matter what I did.

Growing up, both my sister and I experienced (along with my parents) a certain feeling. It has no Dutch or English equivalent that I am aware of, but Germans call it 'Fernweh', the opposite of home sickness. It's an ache to be elsewhere, usually a specific place, but it doesn't have to be. A need to be in a place that is not your home. Not because home is unpleasant or wrong, far from it. It is an entirely positive feeling, even though it aches not be elsewhere. It's the ache of not being with the one you love right now, but knowing that you will be shortly. It is not 'home away from home' though it has some of that resonance.

It feels as if part of you is not complete or possibly even missing when you're not there. I suppose most people for whom this rings a bell got this feeling after they'd already been somewhere. I just got it before I ever even set foot in England.

Landing at Stansted for the first time in the summer of 2005 was like coming home. I was hurt, bewildered and lost, but somewhere inside me a piece clicked into place and gave me a second centre inside myself after my main external one got unbalanced. For the first time ever, a bit I was not consciously aware of clicked into place, became visible and waved a little flag at me. And for a few minutes, nothing else mattered. All was well, even though the rest of my world had gone horribly wrong.

It was unlike anything I have ever felt before, and it is something no one will ever take away from me. This was where I needed to be and where I belonged. It's not because I didn't love The Netherlands. I did and do and I miss it quite often. But I appear to have two home countries.

So yes, looking at it from the outside, moving here in 2007 was my dream coming true. But to me it was more than that. Standing in the conservatory of the_ladylark and hobnobs's home (and now to be mine as well) with everything that fit in the boot and half the backseat of a Lexus on December 3rd 2007 was me coming home. Being hugged by hobnobs and told 'Welcome home,' was not a wish. It was a statement of fact.

So...Why did I want to move to England?

Because.

And I did. No one can ever change that.