You can always come home

Whenever things go tits up in my life, my parents tend to say the same things to me.

My mum is generally fatalistic ‘whatever will be, will be’, is her standard advice on everything from jobs, to my love-life:  ‘the best plans are no plans’.

(No, before you ask, she’s not in charge of Brexit negotiations  – although I am sure she would do a better job.)

My Dad, doesn’t bother trying to advise, he just says ‘you know, you can always come home’.

He said this to me when I got made redundant when I was 24,  when I left a major long term relationship age 28 and now again, as I negotiate job insecurity and living alone in the South side of Glasgow.

It is comforting, because I know it comes from a place of love. It is also disconcerting because the prospect of moving back to Castleford, the boring West Yorkshire mining town I grew up in.. age 31.. fills me with.. not dread exactly, but something close to it.

Anyway.  It’s the 5th of February and I have been off work with this ‘is it a cold, is it Aussie Flu’ virus, bored out of my brain and in need of a new project.  My Dad’s words ringing in my ears ‘You can always come home’.

That’s it. I will go home. I will deal with my fears about work in a fashion which Norman Tebbit would approve of by ‘getting on my bike’ and I will cycle 300 or so miles from Glasgow to Castleford.

In order to make this ridiculous project worthwhile and affordable I hope to stay with people along the way, with the aim of collecting interviews about what home means to people.

So that’s the idea – a 300 mile cycle, some interviews – an excuse for a cheap adventure holiday and endurance test.

This page is a placeholder, and a means to keep myself accountable. Somewhere to blog about my progress in order to make me actually do it.

With apologies to my Dad, who will no doubt, find the idea of his daughter doing a 300 mile cycle journey on her own absolutely horrific, and not at all what he intended when he said ‘you can always come home’.