Sunday, November 6, 2016

What does Home mean to you?



This week’s blog falls at an awkward time. I would say that I’m moving house, but that doesn’t quite cover it. More accurate to say I am moving back into my house. The house is the same, but different, from the one I moved out of several months ago.

Those who know me will be aware that the last few years have been a period of some upheaval for me, including being of No Fixed Abode, as it rightfully declares on this blog.

I can’t deny that it’s been an interesting time in all senses of the word. I’ve taken to pet sitting on an international scale, and borrowed everything from sofas to yacht berths and frankly luxurious guest rooms and apartments from friends around the world.

But somewhere to call Home has a particular appeal.

For one thing, I have rather a lot of books, which have been packed away in storage boxes for far too long. Books are there to be read or they lose their animation and become little more than paper weight.

Besides, there are books I need for research, that I have been unable to find, and reluctant to re-purchase when I know I already own a copy … somewhere. Having your belongings scattered between several locations – some many miles apart – does not make for organised living.

I feel I have acquired more clothes than I need, and yet have some that are still in store and have been so for more than three years. Does this mean I will wear them again with joy, or wonder why I ever kept them in the first place?

It’s been difficult not having a permanent study – not just somewhere to work but also to keep things like my accounts up to date, my paperwork in order. Writing can be done anywhere, but the rest of it needs some kind of continuity of place.

I’ve always been a fan of what I call Lewis Carroll Theory – a place for everything, and everything in its place. Must stem from being brought up living on a boat, where space was at a premium and items needed secure storage or they were liable to end up tossed across the cabin as soon as you went to sea.

If this makes me sound impossibly tidy, that’s not the case, I assure you. My desk, when I’ve had one, has always tended to be awash with notes if I’m in the midst of a book. But I do like other rooms to be uncluttered because it’s possible to put everything where it belongs. Finally getting to unpack those boxes will give me the opportunity to de-clutter once again on a large scale.

I don’t have a great deal of knick-knacks and ornaments. But I do have a small collection of my old cameras, for instance, and a number of paintings it would be wonderful finally to be able to hang somewhere.

For many, a sense of Home is down to family, but being on my own has changed that. Family is still important, but it’s become a step removed from what it once was. Increasingly, Home means some small space to call my own. Somewhere I can find the things I own. Somewhere I can retreat to.

Somewhere easy both to live in and to leave behind.

But also somewhere welcoming to return to.

This week’s Word of the Week is grinagog, meaning a foolish fellow who grins without reason, and comes from The 1811 Dictionary Of The Vulgar Tongue by Francis Grose.

16 comments:

  1. A grinigog has been frequently sighted in my neck of the woods. No further comment needed. Nor accepted. Nor sought. I'm too busy grinning.

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    1. As for the rest, I wish you the best in your homely efforts. My roots too strongly entwined with the local bones of the earth to survive uprooting. But I do enjoy hearing the tales of those on this blog who cavalierly roam the earth with their roots cut off at the neck...

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    2. I wouldn't dream of making any kind of comment about grinagogs in your area, EvKa. Indeed no ...

      Is that use of 'homely' in the Brit or US sense of the word, btw? To Brits it means cosy and comfortable, but the North American definition is unlovely and ill-favoured ...

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  2. ""For many, a sense of Home is down to family" i grab this...

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    1. Hi Victor. Thank you for reading the blog, and I'm glad it touched you enough to comment.

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  3. Welcome home, Zoe! You have endured being uprooted with remarkable aplomb, getting your work done despite the certain disorientation. You made it look like a magic trick. But all that style and grace has to have come from a huge reservoir of grit, effort, and determination. I wish you many, many cozy, peaceful times ahead in your new abode. Adventures when you want them. And relaxation when you return to your nest.

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    1. What lovely sentiments, Annamaria, thank you. As for getting my work done ... Hmm, much pulling out of finger now required, methinks!

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  4. I must say, Zoë, that the concerns you express about how disorganized living is with no fixed abode (books stored as paperweights, clothes stored that are never worn, no fixed study space) sound eerily akin to barbs I'm getting from Barbara about the state of organization of our fixed abode...to which grinagog over here just nods.

    By the way, though that Lewis Carroll quote as been attributed to several different folks, it makes most sense (to me at least) for it to have come from an Alice in Wonderland sort of thinker.

    Welcome home.

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    1. I cannot imagine the lovely Barbara being barbed about anything, Jeff. I'm sure you do her a disservice :-)

      Organisation is something of a state of mind, but having somewhere for things to go, even if you don't actually get around to putting them there, is a start.

      I've always referred to that quote as Lewis Carroll Theory, but asking Mr Google does bring up a lot of people who've also said it.

      Reminds me of the reported exchange between James McNeill Whistler and Oscar Wilde at a party. Whistler said something extremely witty, causing Wilde to bemoan, "I wish I'd said that." To which Whistler responded, "You will, Oscar, you will."

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  5. Home was everything to me.
    It was a place for me to have a good welcome from the people i love.

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    1. Thank you for such a lovely comment, Infobet. A good welcome always warms the heart.

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  6. A bit of the gypsy is not a bad thing, but home is good, too.

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    1. Thanks, Jono. I agree. One of the joys of home is returning, and for that one does have to leave first!

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  7. I think I may a grinigog, just because I have a very weird sense of humour and maybe I am grinning at something nobody else finds funny. I can't think about the word Wombat without grinning for example. Michael J Malone feels the same about the word 'chocolate'.
    And home is all of the above if we are lucky. Some are not so lucky, for some home is a place to keep well clear of. But hopefully, as my gran used to say - there's nothing like having your own front door. Home is, quite simply, where the dog is.

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  8. Thanks, Caro, and I frequently fall towards the grinagog end of the spectrum, too. A display of cookware in a supermarket aisle brings out the desire for International Pan Fighting in me, something I indulge when shopping with a like-minded friend. We must be on the CCTV footage of half the Sainsbury's in Derbyshire.

    Having animals really makes a home, and the pet sitting I've done over the past few years has really helped give me a sense of home when I didn't have one.

    As for a Wombat, isn't that something used to play Wom?

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  9. My apologies for the late arrival of my replies to comments. I have only just managed to arrange an internet connection for the house!

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