The last 2 days have been spent at home. It is a wonderful change from the running around at the weekend, when I was in London doing my course. I love being a home maker, I love the sense of achievement when we sit down to a meal or more simply than that, share a cup of tea and a biscuit. It is the pleasure in the small things that make life so worthwhile. Last night it was catching the moon out of the corner of my eye that brought about such a feeling of joy. The house is quiet, the Goblin is reading, the dog is asleep and the birds are singing in the garden. Occasionally I hear a sheep or a pheasant in the field behind us or a car going down the hill. I can compare this to a mile away in the centre of town where we have a homogenized shopping centre. It is always busy, full of stressed out looking people. They seem to be searching for something, but they don't know what. We are told that 'we are worth it', that spending money on wants will make us feel better. But I, and many of my friends know, that that is not real life. It's a thin veneer of existence. Home, here right now, is where real life is. With the bread freshly baked and the washing blowing on the line. This is where I belong.