There is a storm brewing somewhere over the Channel. Dark clouds are roiling, and the seagulls are swerving and screaming as the wind gets up. Earlier I sat and put my feet in the sea, letting the chill water scour away London heat and grime. I started reading The Welsh Girl by Peter Ho Davies recently, which features the D-Day landings. It was a sobering thought, as I dabbled my feet and barbecues smoked, that they took place in this unremarkable stretch of grey water.
I have neglected a lot of things recently, particularly my dancing and knitting and everything else that makes me feel like 'me', but hopefully I will be getting back into it all again. I will be heading 'home' in a few days, and although when I say 'home' I mean one of the various houses my mum or dad or I have lived in since I was 18, it will be comforting to return to the place I grew up, if only to be glad I don't live there any more.
