There's no place like home

What I've been thinking about:

1. Writing
2. My own bed

Last week, I was lucky enough to attend a writing retreat run by Write South West Scotland. I pootled along the A75 to Brig o Dee, met fellow writers IN REAL LIFE, ate lots of food, star gazed at Threave, ate more food, swam at Mossyard and, you guessed it, ate more food. (By lunchtime on the second day, I had changed into my baggy jeans). 

So far, so good. After four days of listening to amazing writing and a chance to share a bit of mine*, I was planning to pootle back along the A75 and be home well before Saturday lunchtime. But dastardly covid had other ideas. 

Ivie succumbed for the first time and, due to my dodgy immune system, it made sense to stay away. Thankfully, the tutor let me stay for another three days (she came to the Spittal for tea a couple of weeks ago and I think it was Ivie's cheesecake that swung it) so we ate leftovers and caught up with Bake Off and Strictly. 

I thought about my new friends and the gigs, plays and exhibitions they'd talked about going to recently and felt a bit jealous. It can be easy to feel that some things pass us by in Dumfries and Galloway. 

But one of the great things about the week was the chance to see our corner of the world through their eyes. 

• I tend to take a dark, starry sky for granted - others had never seen a shooting star before. 
• I live ten minutes' drive from a lovely, little beach - and most of the time there's no-one else there. 
• I regularly see deer and kites on my morning dog walk - some of my new pals got up early every day in the hope of spotting wildlife. 

I finally got home on Tuesday evening to an enthusiastic spaniel and nearly healthy farmer. I didn't think I'd miss the mud and bellowing bulls but there was something reassuring about the familiar sights and sounds of home (the jury's out on the familiar smells). 

Today included a chat with Lupy while I took a rubbish photo of a rainbow and a walk with Isa and Rudi in the swirling wind. It was a good reminder that there's no place like home, even if I am sleeping in the spare room until Ivie gets around to changing the sheets. I might start taking it personally if he hasn't changed the sheets by this time next week.... 

* One of the stories I wrote was about a tight farmer. They do say write what you know.