Six months of Liverpool

Half a year ago, in the height of summer, I set foot on English soil (it was rather cold, I must say) and started my journey to Liverpool. I arrived in Plattsville Road late at night, dragged my suitcases in, got some food and went to bed. The next day, the adventure began. I explored Liverpool, as one of its people, for the first time. And here we are now, six months later. Do I feel like this is my home now? Maybe. With my job and my new church and new friendships forming, together with new plans, my life is taking shape more and more every day. If today would be a nice day, I would go out and do something special, but as the sky is grey and the rain is trickling, I rather curl up in bed and watch a film. A pity, you would say, at first glance. A pity that I am not doing something special on this special day. But in a way, it's perfect. Not that I spend every living moment watching films in bed, but when I have a day off and no plans, that is what I do. It is one of my favourite activities and I don't care if that sounds sad, I like it and that's that. The BBC iPlayer is a good friend in whose company I like to spend these forlorn hours of nothingness. That is the thing about Liverpool and where I live. If I am not in the centre, I am more or less confined to my room. I don't have to be, but let's face it, if I want any action, I have to leave Allerton, by bus or by bike, and head out to the city. My house is my recluse, the place where I spend time in between my life. A place far away from most of my friends, a place away from work, from school. And I like it that way. It means I can have a lazy day and stay in bed, watching films in my pyjama, without feeling guilty about all the social things going on outside my door. This is my burrow and I like it.

So, yes, I do feel at home here. I long for my bed after a wild night out, long for my room after a day in the library. The rest of my house, not so much. In six months today, I hope to be moving into a new place, a clean place, a place of my own, maybe shared with another person. And I have a feeling that until that day, I will never really completely at home. But until then, 95% of home-ness will do.