Going home

If home is where the heart is, I'll be going home tomorrow. I've been traveling to the British Isles for roughly 20 years now. Countless times to England, twice to Ireland and Saturday I will step onto Scottish soil for the fourth time. Every time I hear that short squeaking sound of my plane's wheels touching the ground a faint smile creeps onto my face and I hear one word ringing in my ears: home.

It's like coming back from a long journey. My heart aches with joy and that ache is strongest when I arrive in Scotland. It always feels like I've been under great pressure and realize that only now that it is lifted off my shoulders at last.
Language is music and as I sit in the bus or train I listen to people's voices as they soothe my ears with their beautiful melody and finally nothing's out of tune anymore.

So yes. I'm going home tomorrow. First I will visit dear friends in Sheffield and have a solo gig at a Red Cross charity night. Take the train to Edinburgh Saturday and head off with a group of hikers to a fantastic manor house near Drumnadrochit to go hillwalking for a week in the area of Glen Affric and Loch Ness hopefully bagging some munros.

Bags are packed, my mind's already there. Actually been there ever since I left it last time I was in Scotland.

Homesick.