Missing Scotland, my home.

My article below is published in 'Nourish', an edition of Exeter University's Razz Magazine (December 2021 Printed Publication).

Home. It’s a comforting word; a word with a multiplicity of meanings. Some good, some bad. Some happy, some sad. For me, I am lucky to admit that home conjures up feelings of warmth, of love, of belonging. Home, no matter where I am in the world, will always be Scotland. Being situated a mere five hundred miles from my home here in Exeter; it holds a distant and detached, nostalgic place in my heart. It feels miles away from my chaotically wonderful life in Exeter. However busy I may be; I find myself reminiscing of home and I miss it. I really do.

I miss the cold. I never thought I would, but I do. I miss the loss of feeling in my fingers as I walk down Edinburgh’s streets in Winter. I miss the biting, crisp air hitting my warm cheeks, turning them a deep, embarrassingly dark red. I miss wrapping up; wearing jumper upon jumper to mask the aggressive, minus degree temperature - protecting against the inevitable Christmas flu. I miss the cobbled streets, the rich sense of history within the walls of the capital city. The Castle standing proudly on the Mound, the pockets of tourists losing their way in the maze of streets. I miss the brave busker bagpiping, clothed head to toe in tartan, on Princes Street. The luminous Iron Bru bottles lighting up shelves in shops; the aggressive slurs of Scottish drunkards on a Friday night; the intoxicating smell of whisky within every pub of the Royal Mile. The constant need of an umbrella at the ready, to shield off frequent outbursts of torrential rain. I miss the haphazard, unpredictable climate. And of course, I miss home cooked food. The nourishing bowls of Mum’s hearty lentil soups, the endless cups of teas but most importantly, I miss porridge, a Scottish staple for breakfast. A dreich, drizzly day becomes instantly improved by the presence of a warming bowl of Mum’s porridge. Creamy oats, berries, and a large dollop honey – a hug in a bowl, for a cold winter’s morning. Nothing beats it, trust me.

‘There really is no place like home’. Only recently have I realised how true this saying is. Cherish the place you call home. Hold it safely in your heart, because no matter where you are or who you are with, home will always find a way back into your life.

armorel x