About missing home

It's been six and a half years since I left Norway now. I never thought I would be gone for this long.

I left life as a student in Bergen, where we would stay up all night, drink a lot, go dancing and walk home at dawn, to live as a student in London, where the tube stops running at midnight, you're always looking over your shoulder after dark, going out takes a lot of planning, and I found myself studying at a big, competitive music college where taking care of your voice took precedence over anything else.

I left the open sea to live by a dirty river. I really missed the wide open horizon and the fresh breeze on my face.

I grew up near the sea, next to the forest and the hills, and suddenly I was living in a busy city where there was nowhere to escape the great masses.

The English are not the easiest to make friends with. They are very friendly, and will invite you out for a drink, but it's hard to get past their polite exterior. Norwegian people will invite you into their homes, English people will generally not. It takes time and perseverance to get to know the English well. At times I was yearning for a good old waffle in someone's living room, or a proper Norwegian- style 'vorspiel'.

But then again I met some wonderful new friends, and Husband, of course! I lived in a city with the best shopping in the world (when I had the money for it), wonderful museums and markets, world class concerts and wonderfully tasty food. I had some amazing opportunities and experiences whilst doing my music degree. I would stroll along the Thames on a Sunday afternoon whilst sipping my coffee and holding Husband's hand. I would become bilingual. And most importantly, I would have a wonderful baby daughter.

It is as it is with most things in life: you win some, you lose some. But right now I am really missing home.