During my two weeks’ travelling back in the UK, I kept an eye on myself for any stray feelings of loneliness. I clocked them a couple of times – both when in a busy public space, one when I was at Heathrow walking for mile upon barren mile from aeroplane to bus station and wishing I had someone to make me laugh at the unnecessariness (nb made-up word) of it all; the other at Lime Street station feeling a bit like a Triffid, without the stabilising grip of my roots.
It’s surrounded by people that I find the lurking danger of loneliness, not in the warm solitary bubble of my mountain existence; for me it’s the feeling of being disconnected, an invisible stranger in my old home. It’s the conjunction of familiarity and lack of connection that does it – a reminder that we all need to belong.
Where do you belong – do you have deep roots anywhere?