I miss my boys

It’s all good and well to go away and see new things, meet new people and engage in new experiences but at some point I inevitably end up missing things from home.  The objects I miss seem to vary incredibly depending on where I am, who I am with and what I’m doing at the that point in time.

While at Festival for example, the first thing I lament the absence of is a decent bathroom… surrounded by good company and plenty of diverting entertainment…a flushing toilet and a real shower takes on monumentally luxurious importance in one’s imagination.  While traveling through Turkey and Pakistan last year… filled with the novelty of being immersed in sightseeing antiquities, absorbing differernt cultures and meeting interesting fellow travelers… it was news from home (God bless the internets) and a bowl of regular breakfast cereal (one more fucking brekkie of olives, feta, tomatoes and cucumber and I would have exploded!) that took on unusual import.  Going off to Canberra-Babylon… where one has ready access to bathrooms with showers, fantastic company, loads of red wine and all the good comforts of home… it is merely a decent night’s sleep in my own bed that I wish for.

But through all of those experiences with or without showers, internets and /or muesli what I miss most when I’m away from home is my boys.
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