Rediscovering Home

Rediscovering Home
By Ollie

I’m from a small town in the Northwest of England. It’s not particularly notable, aside from a few famous alums and a market. It isn’t one of those scenic, historic places you see in films, surrounded by trees and creeks in a picturesque haze. To be honest, I spent most of my adolescence hating it—resenting my parents for not picking a more exciting place to grow up, or at least somewhere more central. But home is home, and with it come certain comforts I used to take for granted and now appreciate.

This weekend, my friend and I met up in my favourite café. It’s nothing fancy—if anything, it’s a bit rustic. The chairs creak, the tables wobble, and the toilet is tiny. Still, I always love going there. When she went up to order, I found myself bookless with a couple of minutes to spare. So I looked around and took in my surroundings: busy faces deep in conversation, dogs’ tails wagging hopefully for scraps, vinyls covering the walls with their plastic sleeves catching the light.

In that moment, I realised how much I loved this place—and how lucky our small northern town is to have pockets of sunshine for outcasts seeking refuge.

When I moved home after uni, I had to reacquaint myself with this place. Suddenly I had the time to explore, and living in the city and then abroad gave me a fresh perspective. Changing my scenery gave me space to grow and mature. I wasn’t the same person who came back as the one who left. This version of me felt more confident, outgoing and adventurous. Back in high school I was painfully shy and could hardly stomach a conversation with a shop attendant or barista. But with my newfound bravery, I was able to try new things with ease.

Moving away also taught me to notice the hidden gems in the ordinary and to appreciate the small things that were always here. The same trail I walk with my dog every night, where the trees bend into a tunnel and I feel peaceful away from the hum of people. Rooting through vinyls in my local HMV, with its monthly gigs and staff who genuinely care about the music they sell. Even small comforts, like pudding, chips and gravy from the local chippy, or evening trips to the cinema where my local Vue hosts a great mix of films, took on new meaning.

Whether you like it or not, you become accustomed to your surroundings. And while many people move on to bigger and better things, there’s value in appreciating the town you grow up in. For me, growing up as a queer kid who felt like he needed more than his little northern town could give, it’s a joy now to see gay bars, art galleries, and escapes for newer generations.

I’m not saying people shouldn’t move—sometimes nothing beats the excitement of the city with its endless things to do. But choosing to invest in your local community is another option.

To summarise, it’s not the place that makes the person, but the person that makes the place. If we see our surroundings in a flat, two-dimensional way, disappointment is bound to follow. But if we carve out our own spaces and look for something new, you never know what could be waiting at the end.

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