Where is home? Has
your mind drifted to a childhood image of safety and security, so beloved of
our Yorkshire friends? Someone from
Yorkshire can be living anywhere else in the world for most of their lives and
yet, somehow ‘home’ is where they are not.
Is this because Yorkshire grit requires its own to be constantly bearing
some hardship, and when all else fails not being in Yorkshire is the ultimate
hair shirt? I don’t mean to poke fun at
Yorkshire men and women (a behaviour akin to taking a stick to a lion as in
that lovely monologue of my youth ‘Albert and the Lion’) but it is something of
a stereotype, perhaps one we all accept as gospel. Home is childhood, a place to go back to.
Tuesday, 28 October 2014
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