Homeward Bound

As a lad of fourteen or fifteen I couldn't wait to get out of the house. I know that because I spent long stretches sleeping at Auntie Norah's simply because it wasn't our house. And by seventeen I was managing to disappear for weeks at a time. It wasn't that I was unhappy at home, far from it. But bored, certainly. In need of experiencing the big world out there.

Now I've experienced the big world I reckon it's okay, in its way, but not always up to all that much. And a heart needs a home, as Richard Thompson so shrewdly pointed out. And since mine has got the missus in it, and enough books and music to last me pretty much the rest of my days, I'm more than happy to take refuge in it.