When “home” starts to mean somewhere else
by Eddy
I’ve been in Mauritius since Thursday 6 March. I laboured remotely during the first and second weeks, and still felt guilty when I started my holiday at the beginning of this week whilst aware that an important project deadline had been missed and that a colleague would have to cram it out.
Adding to the strangeness of being in Mauritius twice within a two-month period and the uncertainty back in England, what with the missed deadline, the recent storms in Britain, the unattended house, and the toppled fence left as-is, is the budding confusion about the meaning of “home”. Indeed, I find myself saying that “I am bored of being in Mauritius and would rather be home” quite often.
To muddle things even more, I don’t feel the same urge as before to obtain the British citizenship and often contemplate remaining exclusively Mauritian; but, at the same time, I want Britain to be my home.
Is there a fellow ex-pat reading this and having similar feelings?
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