A week in Southport would once have seemed the dullest of destinations.
But having now lived in a variety of elsewheres for about seven and a half years, I think I’ve spent long enough away to appreciate what can be a surprisingly pleasant town.
Perhaps absence makes the heart grow fonder, and I’ve no doubt that I’d be bored silly if I were to spend years, or even months actually living there again, but yet a week was not quite enough.
I hadn’t been back to England for almost two years, and quite aside from family and friends there was so much more that I’d missed without even realising it.
Continue reading ‘Dear Old Blighty’
