Hello and I hope you’re having a lovely day to anyone reading.
I’ve been telling everyone that I came home early because of the Omicron variant — and this is certainly true. Everything, especially in London, definitely feels scarier and closer to the dread of locked-down 2020 right now. I left London because the whole place started to feel as if on the precipice of disaster, and I’ve never felt more at risk of getting COVID than I did in the past week or so.
Anyway, I am now safely ensconced in my childhood home in Reading. Another drive for my sudden leaving was that I’ve wanted to be at home for a couple of weeks now. Home is where I feel safest; it’s where I’d choose to spend another lockdown. There’s something psychologically reassuring about home which offers an invisible blanket to the problems of the outside. The sickness of the rest of the world feels like a lesser threat when surrounded by the comforts of family. I think learning this was one of the few silver linings of the past year.
***
London is a vibrant city. It’s full of light, culture, warmth and, in many parts, community. For an outsider or a newbee (that’s me) it’s also a very harsh place to be, especially if you haven’t found firm footing yet. After recently moving there on a (hopefully) permanent basis, I realised that, for me at least, the feeling of being home isn’t something I’ll be able to easily replicate. At least not in the near future.
The appeal of London is it vastness. There’s so much of everything, an onrush of people, places and things to see, all of which makes it harder to hold onto any one single moment or encounter. To me, anyway, it feels as if the little things get lost in the mass. This onslaught of new experiences, some you ask for and some you don’t, is inevitable. Loneliness is just one of these experiences, but was perhaps the most enduring for me during my first month living there.
London represents an exact opposite to the comforting stasis of my childhood home. Though its fluidity and opportunity and excitement were exactly what attracted me to it, they’re also what draw me back to the anchor of home. (It seems I’ll never be satisfied no matter where you put me!)
So, essentially, Christmas arrived at the perfect time for me to flee. Though the holiday was my main motivator for travelling home this week, I also came back because, as a place, it’s healing. One way of articulating this need for a break is that I felt there was a sickness in or of London I couldn’t avoid (not just literally). Would describing this as a sickness of the soul be a terribly gauche thing to say? I’ll say it anyway.
This wasn’t, of course, purely London’s fault. My own insecurities and uncertainty in my personal life all had a part to play in this perfect storm. After complaining for months about the life I was missing out on by not living in London, I finally arrived. I knew barely anyone outside of work, I moved in with strangers and it suddenly all felt very anti-climactic. This sickness, then, came with a realisation that the life I thought I’d been missing out on maybe just didn’t exist at all.
A plethora of literature exists on the isolation felt living in this city. Growing up British, a move to London is often represented or advertised as a move synonymous with independence. An emancipation from small-town life towards a space of limitless cultural and social possibility. For many people, its vibrance and diversity offers a safety, community and protection which is far more reliable than traditional constructs of a ‘home’. Though this both has and hasn’t been part of my experience, and despite my loneliness, it’s something I’m happy I’ve done. Being home has helped me realise this.
***
Before I stop rambling altogether for 2021, I wanted to offer a little insight into my home. This something of the place that inspired this letter:
The sound of home is
My dad singing, or talking to our dog. He’s almost always singing. On weekend afternoons, it’s him playing the piano.
Mum walking up to the loft with a book, maybe with Louis’ footsteps following hers.
When Tom’s home, it’s the unmissable thrum of his voice. The sound of him shuffling into the kitchen, his speaker blaring as he cooks us dinner.
The overzealous song of a finished cycle on the washing machine. The tap in the kitchen which always has a drip.
The storm of Louis running down the stairs and the pack howl whenever one of us comes to to door.
Creaky floorboards in every room of our house.
***
Here’s some art by one of my favourite illustrators (done in partnership with Uniqlo) which makes me feel cosy, esp. now that I am housebound with a cold. It’s by Jee Ook-Choi and you can find more of her work on Instagram.
That’s about all I have to say for now, see you all in the new year when I will hopefully have my newsletter act together!
Thanks to anyone who took the time to read this.
***
Songs/ album recommendations:
Two songs I’ve been listening which are very calming: ‘Remember Where You Are’ by Jessie Ware and ‘Northern Lights’ by Kennie (who also makes very funny YouTube videos on her channel Kennie JD)
The album I have loved most of late: SAWAYAMA by Rina Sawayama (especially tracks ‘Chosen Family’, ‘Tokyo Love Hotel’ and ‘Who’s Gonna Save U Now?’, but every single song is good!)