Amanda, I was nearly in tears when I opened the photos.

Jeanne, beautifully put. The grass is not greener, I just miss the other view sometimes.

But then, like your daughter, I will wake up one morning and all I want to do is go home. I scowl at the relentless grey sky; I get absolutely despondent at the rude and unpleasant people on the Tube that can make or break your journey to work; I despair at my office that has no natural light at all; I curse the weather as I squelch to the station in the 5 o’clock darkness, missing my Volkswagen Golf back home.

I certainly don’t feel English (nor do I think I ever will), but I can pass almost unnoticed among them. So yes, I do feel at home here. I have made good friends and there are many things that I would miss if I leave. But England will never make my heart sing the way Africa does. I never land at Heathrow with the uncontrollable urge to laugh and hug the person next to me; I never feel exhilirated by the sound of rain on an English roof, nor terrified by a proper thunderstorm. And of course, I ache with the longing to see my two nephews growing up, and I miss the immediacy of being able to plonk myself down at my best friend’s or my sister-in-law’s kitchen table after a hard day at work for tea and sympathy. I yearn for the beaches and wide open spaces of Africa; but I know when I moved back there for 18 months in 2001, I cried every time I saw Central London on TV.

I always look with deep envy at people who seem rooted to their place in the world. The people who grew up in one place, made their friends, career, family and lives there and are happy living as the continuation of a long thread of their family and culture stretching back generations. I envy them because I no longer feel that rooted anywhere.

ps: i’ve relocated to http://lapetiteboulangette.blogspot.com

hope u’ll ammend the link! thanks!