I leave tomorrow for a visit to London. I have mixed feelings about that. While I want to be able to walk the hills of the Chilterns, ride the Underground to museums and galleries, and poke around castles and other ancient places, I don't look forward to that feeling that it's only temporary, that I'll have to leave in a week.
Know what I mean?
Can you ever really go home again, knowing it's no longer your home?
I suspect not. I'm going to try to see things I haven't seen before—the Foundling Museum, the Geffrye Museum, Sutton Hoo. The museums in London will have exhibits I haven't seen, too, and the Queen's Gallery always changes up what's on its walls.
But knowing I can't go back home—to my red brick house on the edge of the Chilterns, next to a cow pasture—well, that's going to bring a pang or two.
Someone remind me of my plumbing nightmares, okay?