It’s been three weeks since my last post,  re-entry after a delightful holiday in France has been particularly difficult this time. I hadn’t been to France on holiday since I’ve been seriously ill and coming back to London has felt unbearably poignant.

September has always had a joyous, beginning of the year feel to it. But now I’ve had to give up my uni job and there are no new students to challenge, mentor and  delight in. Mum’s health is deteriorating fast. I returned to a battery of tests, which turned out positive, but reminded me (as if I needed it) of my parlous state of health. I’ve felt like running away, back to holiday mode, unable to settle.

And then this morning I was jolted back into London life, quite literally. Getting a cab to the station, the driver was a brake abruptly, hoot, accelerate, go the long way round merchant. I got out feeling quite seasick. Went to buy a coffee for the train, having worked out that I could manage stick, suitcase and coffee if I had a bag for the coffee. The woman in the shop seemed outraged that I wanted a paper bag, “just for a coffee?” she snapped. I held my ground with the steely gaze I used on recalcitrant students. “Yes, please.”

Re-entry complete. Welcome home.


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