Home? Today, It's Chester

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This royal throne of kings, this sceptred isle,
This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars,
This other Eden - demi-paradise -
This fortress built by nature for herself
Against infection and the hand of war,
This happy breed of men, this little world,
This precious stone set in the silver sea,
Which serves it in the office of a wall,
Or as a moat defensive to a house
Against the envy of less happier lands;
This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England.
--William Shakespeare, “Richard II”

As promised, I got through all the personal admin - but not until 11.00 this morning. I had grand plans of coming in yesterday afternoon to finish it all up, but the sun was shining and I was loving “Richard II”, so I decided the afternoon called for glasses of white wine at the local in the sun with my book. As part of the New Me (for that, read one of the many changes I am going to make post employment), I am working on being less OCD and living more in the moment. I am so glad I did. It was a glorious afternoon. I spoke on the phone to Colin and Mom, got through Act IV of my book, had two glasses of wine and just enjoyed sitting in the sun. We changed the clocks on Sunday which means that there is now light. Let me tell you, January and February are long and dark on this blessed plot. We are always glad to see the light and the spring.

This all means that I was not on the 9.00 train as I had hoped, but was on the 12.17. No worries. I got a seat, finished my book and failed miserably at the crossword. All of which means that I had loads of time to stare out the window and think. I was thinking about “home”.

“Home” has to be one of the most evocative words in the English language. There are hundreds of synonyms and thousands of quotes about it. People much more clever and erudite than I have spent pages discussing it But what, exactly, does it mean? What I have found very interesting is that nearly everyone who responded to my various emails about losing my job asked me if I was “going home”. My stock response was “I am home”. But, really, what does that mean?

My mother is the biggest homebody I know. I find it fascinating. When she, Lynn and I were in Washington last autumn sharing a room, Mom re-arranged the knickknacks, bought a candle and could actually tell that the room looked better after she was finished. Me? I had lived in my flat for two years before I realised that the blinds in my kitchen are a hideous shade of orange. Mom would have changed them within hours of moving in. I still live with them.

I have never owned a piece of property - and can’t foresee a situation where I would. The thought of being tied down to one place is an anathema to me. Third only to being buried alive or heights, it is my greatest fear. I always need to feel that I can go at a moment’s notice. But - having said that, I tend to live in the same places for years and years at a time.

So - what does home mean to me? Right now, it is a tiny little flat in Maida Vale that is so small Mom and Lynn have to stay in a hotel when they come to visit. But, more importantly, it is England. Mom tells a story that when I was nine, she and I were walking down a city street in London and I announced that one day I was going to live here. While I have no memory of the event, it doesn’t surprise me. I have been an Anglophile from way back and am still one. I can’t imagine living anywhere else, for a lot of reasons. The first? I love London. Bill Bryson calls it the greatest city in the world - and he should know. I agree. I’ve seen a lot of them in all hemispheres and time zones. None come even close. The second? It’s close to everything and, being the traveller I am, makes my life ever so much easier. I can be in Moscow in the same amount of time it would take me to get to California.

Thus, the quote at the top. When I read it, I actually got tears in my eyes. It sums up perfectly what I think of my adopted land. Why, I can hear you asking, am I reading “Richard II”? Watch this space.

But, I LOVED it. I had never read it before. The language is stunning; the story is fabulous and true and it really brings that part of history alive. Richard was the son of the Black Prince - one of my favourite characters in English history. He (The Black Prince) was a bit of a bad boy, but sounds as though he were charming. He actually married for love in a time when all marriages were politically motivated and thumbed his nose at the establishment. For a wonderful fictitious look at him, watch “A Knight’s Tale”, one of the great feel good films of all time. James Purefoy on whom I have had a crush since I first saw that film plays him. He also plays Mark Antony in the two HBO/BBC series of “Rome” which, if you haven’t seen them, RUN don’t walk to hire them. The best TV I have ever seen.

So, with Richard all read and my thoughts on home all done, I arrived in Chester, home for the next few days. I am staying at the Grosvenor Hotel. I love places like this. When the taxi driver pulled up about five blocks from the place, he had to announce my name so that he could drive through the pedestrian part of town. What this means is that, when I arrived, the bellhop greeted me by name and grabbed my bag before I could think. When I went to check in? No standing in a queue waiting, thank you very much. One is led to a table where one sits, is handed one’s room key and escorted to the gorgeous room. Waiting for me in my room was a personalised letter - I just LOVE stuff like this. Now - back to home for just a moment. The one thing I do is unpack as soon as I am in a hotel room. It tends to drive the people I am travelling with crazy, but as I am mostly on my own - who cares? The weather was vile, so rather than spoil the day for tomorrow, I went down to the bar for a quiet drink before heading back to the room to play on the computer.

In the evening, I went down to the restaurant in the hotel called Arkle - named after, I kid you not, one of the Queen’s horses. How does one not love living in this country?? It has a Michelin star, well deserved in my opinion. I started with oysters and caviar and followed it up with something called 53 Degree C Beef. Wow! Slowly cooked, but still nice and rare. With a glass of Argentinean Malbec - stunning. All wound up by a plate of smelly cheese and a glass of port. Home is pretty good today!

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Comments

[Matt]

Inspiration
You need to write a book - your life in the insurance world is over! Start writing - its your calling! Loved this entry!!!!!!! Love, Matt