Reverse Homesickness

Today marks the third anniversary of my coming back to America, land of my birth. I arrived at Philadelphia International with a British dog, the clothes I was wearing and not much else. I’d lived in England for the previous five years, mostly in the woods right outside of Bathwick. I’d run away for love and it didn’t turn out very well, as regular readers of this blog will already know. I spent most of my time penniless. And yet I’m sad today because I do really miss England. It’s sort of a reverse homesickness.

Things I Miss About England

I miss the food. Growing up in America, you hear all of the jokes about English food, but don’t believe a word of it. The food was incredible. Lardy cakes, Bramley apple pies, Bakewell tarts, real fish and chips, new potatoes and parsnips, cucumbers you didn’t have to peel to eat, Hob Nobs — I better stop there before I begin to cry.

I also miss the birds. To find a starling was real shock, even though they’re all over the place in America. But they’re almost extinct in their home continent. The English robin is far cuter and cheekier than the blackbird-like American variety, often feeding right off of your plate. The huge song of the tiny wren must be heard to be believed. Mute swans would prove that they were given the wrong name, because they’d constantly honk as they flew.

I miss the radio station Classic FM. I miss the progressive attitude to dog care and that ear cropping of dogs is illegal in England. I missed the accents, the complaint about the trains and even Tony Blair jokes.

Will I Ever Go Back?

Probably not. First off, I’m not sure they’d allow me back in. Anyway, I had my time in England. It was incredible and somehow, I survived it. In going back, I’d probably be disappointed in seeing any changes.

Now, I’m thinking of traveling to Mongolia.

Please let us know what you think about this post. No time to comment, Nothing in particular to say? Just click a star or stumble us