I wrote a post just over a month back about the feeling of not belonging in Italy..

Last Thursday, I went back to the UK.

Well, I say the UK. It actually felt like I had stepped into some sort of theme park – and not in a good way. I would call it the “Daily Mail Land”.

Of course, there’s nothing I could put my finger on, exactly. I mean, the countryside was as wonderful as ever. The beer was great. Some of the food was wonderful and I miss that. It was all much “tidier” than Italy, which was nice. But I think it was the people. As if all joy had been squeezed out and it left a miserableness that couldn’t be hidden by the falseness of the shop assistants over-friendliness, the bar staff trying to make you feel that you were the most important customer in the world, etc.

It was like everyone had just come off a Customer Care course but it just felt like “let’s pretend”. None of it felt “real”.

I don’t belong there either. So, if I don’t belong there and I don’t belong there, where do I belong?

And I missed Italy. Not just for F and the dogs. I missed the food, the life, the enjoying of life. And, more than ever, coming back felt like coming home.

I bought lost of things. Too much to fit in my suitcase and so Best Mate will be posting it to me.

And the time I spent with Best Mate – just hanging out – was fantastic.

But,in spite of that, it get’s harder to go back each time I do it. Next time, it’s for a wedding party and I go with F. So let’s see if that is any better.