Sunday, 13 September 2009

Living in Cambridge is like living in a commune.

At least, it is for me. No house I've lived in feels like home, but the city does. Guess that's understandable when you look at the number of places I've lived in in the 5 years I've been here.

I was cycling up to Great St Mary's to sing for one of the more peculiar weddings I've ever been involved with yesterday morning quite early for a Saturday (rehearsal started at 10). September is really here in the mornings - I'm pleased to see it. It was cool and quiet in town. No tourists, no students. The city takes a breath before diving into the new day term year.

I can go to places and know I'll see someone I know. I can feel a sense of possession of the place. It is mine and I am its, at least for now. It is intensely familiar, after the closeness of our relationship. My life has been played out against a backdrop of the ancient and the beautiful in a large but tight knit community.

I will miss it, this place. It is enormously strong, but also very peaceful. I need not to be here any more, this much I am certain of. I need to look outwards and upwards and destroy the comfort zones and start somewhere fresh. I will visit, and it will take a while for the bond to breakdown, but then I will be just a visitor. I don't think it will ever make me feel trapped the way St Albans does. Maybe sometime I'll come back here. It's a wonderful place.

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