flypig.co.uk

It's a strange phenomenon, finding yourself with nowhere to call home. This is the situation I find myself in this evening. This is not the same as having nowhere to live, the tragedy and unpleasantness of which the word 'strange' doesn't even begin to capture. On the contrary, it is ironically the fact that - as of today - I technically have two flats to live in that I find I don't have anywhere to sleep. One flat is practically empty, save for a rather lonely bed that belongs to our landlord. The other flat is packed full of our possessions, all laboriously moved over the last few days, and all carefully concealed in easily transportable (but not easily accessible) boxes. So the choice is between an empty, cold flat where the few remaining contents are easily accessible but offer little in the way of comfort, or a congested, cold flat packed full of practically everything you could wish for, none of which can be effectively used.
I'm not complaining mind. The circumstance represents a small part of a much larger journey and is at any rate entirely of my own making. Even if none of this were the case, it would be churlish to claim that this is a bad situation, when there are so many deeper levels of being worse off that people suffer.
It is a strange journey nonetheless, both in circumstance and emotional effect. We've decided where we're going to stay tonight. There really was only one choice, even if it's not very practical. When you're on a journey, the only choice, after all, is to move forwards.