Unexpected homesickness.

When I moved to London in July, I had been counting the days, hours and minutes for months (if not years) because getting away from there was my ultimate dream. I finally did it: I moved here, set up home, managed on my own despite threatening neighbours, living in a dodgy area, having all my furniture go missing and being skint. It has been absolutely everything I thought it would and more and I am so glad I did it. I love my pokey, slightly rough-round-the-edges flat and I love the independence I finally have.

Yet, I am still feeling homesick. I mean, don't get me wrong, I don't want to go home on a permanent basis by any stretch of the imagination but I am having serious Devon cravings and I miss my family and friends so much it actually hurts to think about. I need a pasty, a walk to the beach and a chat with my Grandma; I need a flipping good night out with my girls and a catch up in the pub; I miss my guinea pigs and more than anything, I miss the people. It really has been a don't-realise-what-you've-got-til-it's-gone moment with them: I spent so much time focussing on what a shithole Plymouth is (and it is, I'm not denying that) that I forgot that actually, especially in the last couple of years, I had been very happy there and it was entirely down to the people. My friends picked me up when I was down, my family stood by me even when things got very tough between us all and now I really miss their companionship.

I guess I am, actually, getting a bit lonely here. I haven't seen anyone other than work people or my boyfriend for weeks because I've been so skint and it is, unfortunately, the one downside to living alone. I must rectify that this week, I must get out of the house.

I've booked my train tickets back home for half term at least, but it still seems like an age away despite how quickly the last three weeks have flown by.

Just down the road, the exact spot I intend to stuff my face with pasty.

It'll come round soon, though. And bring on the pasty ♥