I loved every one of them
Thirdly [and finally] I wish to talk about appreciation. When I was 4, I visited Malaysia for the first time. Then, when I was 11, my Dad moved there for 3 years. I visited him 5 times [free flights each time lol] and I loved it each and every time. And obviously, it was a family holiday. I have also been to Thailand, Singapore, Borneo, USA [many parts of it] France, Spain, Lanzarote, Belgium, Switzerland and Italy. I love travelling, I would do it for my entire life if I could. I know other people who are also well travelled, who go skiing every year, go on great holidays every year, yet it isn’t appreciated by the 14 year old. She cried the whole night before and morning that they were leaving, and wrote it all over Facebook that she didn’t want to go. Okay then, you don’t go, I will go in your place. ANYONE would happily go in her place. Silly girl.
Wednesday,
Tonight I wish to discuss the concept of «home». This is because I am going home, to Purley, in two days time. This time in two days I will be at home — this is a very exciting thing for me. Because you see I have not been home since the 9th January — so this weekend would have been 11 weeks since I have seen my house, my friends, and my Dad (I saw my Mum 9 weeks ago, and John a month ago). This is a really scary thought.
When I was starting year 7, my Dad moved to Malaysia with his work. While this was great as we got free flights to go and see him, so in essence free holidays, we obviously missed him greatly. We as a family have always had an emotional attachment to Malaysia from a holiday in 1996, so any chance to go back there was willingly jumped at. We have so many great memories there, from riding elephants to snorkeling in the shallows of tiny islands to seeing orang-utans up close in their sanctuary. Anyway, I will now relate this to «home». In an exam once, I think it was in year 9 or 10, I was asked to describe my home. I took around 5 minutes to decide whether I was going to describe my home in Purley, or describe my Dad’s flat in Malaysia, and roughly describe the country. So I decided to do both, which was a nice idea but in the end, a bad choice, as I ran out of time! But as I wrote my «essay», I realised how much I really missed Malaysia, so I knew I could have written the whole thing on home being in Malaysia. But although I think this, I know I’d’ve missed my «other home» in Purley. Confusion, confusion.
Next, saying «I’m going home.» I often used to use this term when talking to Lydia when we were going back to her house. I suppose her house was a home from home for me so it is understandable, but I have recently found that I refer to the place I am staying that day/night as «home» — for instance, Mum came to visit me in Leeds and we stayed in a hotel for the night and when we were at the pub having tea, I said something about milf selfies going «home», and Mum knew what I meant because she does the same, but that’s when I really realised that I do it. But I think this just indicates that I feel comfortable wherever I call «home.»