I've said this many times. Whether I've written it down is moot. I'm never homesick. My sickness is to come home. To a job I don't particularly enjoy; to worries about neighbours; frets about what I should do to my flat (sell and leave the stresses of living here to someone else) or more likely what I won't do (sell).

I know I'm psychically running away from all the decisions that have to be made, which will  and I can see this, probably make my emotional life easier to bear in some ways, but, and ain't there always a big one of this: travelling, even the thought of it, is just so damn exhilarating.