Springtime is a mischevious season. Just when you think the onslaught of cold weather has abated, just when you're peeling off a layer in the meek but promising sunlight, a cold blast hits you with a wintry ferocity and your optimism is dashed for another while. I started today Wearing a single fleece over my polo shirt. I finished the day wearing three fleeces and a body warmer. My hands were aching in the cold air and my feet were numb in my colder wellies. I never was so glad to get back home tonight.
I have to go to Limavady tomorrow to check on a WiFi installation I did at a large Country estate. Going up that way is bitter-sweat for me because its still home in my mind. Home becomes a hard thing to define. Its primarily a house, but it can also be a town, an area, or even an entire country. I would say my idea of "home" has changed over the past few years. My radius has increased a lot, but I still cast a nostalgic eye back to the places that have an emotional significance for me. Maybe that's the binding force that keeps people in a certain area - nostalgia. Otherwise we might Float off all over the place.