This is the autobiographical piece I submitted for my course. Hope you like it.
Where is home?
Thursday 5th November 2009
Thursday 5th November 2009
It’s dark tonight, and winter-cold. I stick my nose out of the tiny opening my bedroom window will allow and suck in the fresh air. I am twelve floors up and can see most of Salford from my window. This has been my residence for just over a year and still I don’t see it as home and I don’t think I ever will. There is a smoky scent, bonfires and fireworks, hanging in the air and suddenly I am transported back home, my backgarden to be precise, my gloved hand holding a sparkler whilst my free hand clutches a toffee apple, sticky and rather pointless but its tradition. I usually discard the apple once I have broken through the crystalised toffee layer; I always have since being a child, who wants an apple on a stick?
It’s the little things like this that make me think of home and how much I miss it. To anyone it might seem like a simple matter of hopping on a dingy train and heading back to Blackpool to visit my home and my loving parentals, and ok, I guess it could be that easy if it wasn’t for one little difference. Well, two actually, my niece and nephew. They now live with us permanently due to my brother not making the best choices in life and the choices he has made will affect all of us for a very long time.
The last time I remember feeling the warm fuzziness of contentment inside was Christmas 2008. I was studying Performing Arts at Salford University and despising it. I had been counting the days until Christmas vacation and remember the sense of relief and anticipation as I climbed out of my friend’s car, lugging my dirty laundry through the front door. I was greeted by the scent of festive spices, warmth, Christmas decorations and my mum; arms outstretched waiting to envelop me in a hug. I dissolved into her and didn’t feel sad anymore. I was home.
I curled up on the sofa whilst mum cooked dinner in the kitchen, the first time I had eaten decent food in months, and the first time I had watched television too! TV licences are far too expensive, but I do miss getting dressed to GMTV in the morning. I was late for most of my classes last year because Jeremy Kyle was sometimes too sickening to turn off.
After dinner I soaked in the bathtub, reading a good book, and didn’t emerge until I was suitably wrinkled. As a child I wandered through that awkward phase where you would rather do anything than wash. I didn’t want to brush my teeth, I didn’t want to have a bath and I didn’t want to wash my hair. I still don’t understand why kids go through that, it’s pretty vile. When you have spent time living in Bramall Court, with a shower that switches between ice cold and literally scalding every sixty seconds, it is bliss to come home and soak in the tub. Bubbles galore. Later I climbed into the huge, bouncy bed in the spare room and snuggled up, full of warm fuzzies. The spare room was my bedroom now as Jess (the niece) was living in mine; I didn’t mind that, it’s all pink and girly for her.
Christmas was gorgeous. It always is. Nanny Pearl came to visit, which is extraordinarily rare as she NEVER leaves the home and doesn’t really get dressed either. My dad says Nanny Pearl has been ill ever since he was born yet I think she will last forever. She has outlived three husbands and even attempted an overdose. In the hospital she slowly opened her eyes, looked around and murmured, ‘Oh god. I’m still here.’ She is definitely a character. I just know she would survive a zombie infestation, an alien invasion and the apocalypse, I am sure of it. She has hearing aids that whistle constantly and she never hears a word anyone says, but when you end up shouting because you have repeated the last sentence seven times she chastises you for being rude and shouting at her. I must admit, she was very well behaved on Christmas day as she can sometimes be a little bit of a terror. She even managed to remain polite when Jess and Stuart (the nephew) knocked a cup of tea onto her lap which was followed by Mum tipping a glass of orange juice all over her at the dinner table, by accident of course. It was the warmest, fuzziest three weeks and I’m scared I won’t feel that again.
The four months Summer Holiday break turned out to be a nightmare. Stuart moved in after Easter last year and now, with two young children to suddenly look after and mum being made redundant things have become so much more difficult. There is a tension in the air at home, the misery is tangible and hangs in the air over our heads. An argument is always lurking around the corner, no one means to do it, it’s just difficult to avoid. For me, the worst thing is that it doesn’t feel like my house anymore, I don’t feel comfortable because of the stress and sadness. I don’t have a bedroom. My parents can’t go out for dinner together whenever they want, they can’t go on holiday with their friends (who have now stopped coming round to visit) and my mum can’t afford to treat herself, ever. I know it isn’t the children’s fault but I start to get angry and I am unsure how to deal with it at the moment. Will Christmas be the same this year? Mum has said I can have the spare room again for the three weeks I’m home which is lovely, but will she be happy? Will anyone be happy? All I can do for now is hope and try and stay positive.
