Homeward Bound

Everything has changed now we've made the decision to move back to the UK. Having resisted talking about England as being home, we now talk endlessly about when we go home, being back at home, what it is like at home, what we miss about home. Just making the decision to leave has changed us, from being a part of the country, its cultures and people to being outsiders.

I'm not sure whether it is because of this but suddenly Bosnia is really starting to get on my nerves. Those little niggles of life that irritate are now really winding me up. The on-going bureaucracy and trips to various ministries, handing over the same piece of paper with ever increasing fees is driving us even more demented than usual. I'm sure that the UK has its own labyrinthine bureaucracy for those who aren't UK citizens, but we are so we don't have to experience it. I'm fed up with coming across lost, forlorn stray puppies and dogs all over town. The broken glass in the parks which is just perfect for shredding a dogs paw takes away an awful lot of the enjoyment of going for a walk. The idiots who dump rubbish, car loads of the stuff, in the woods and forests around Tuzla also spoil the afternoon (not to mention the damage that is being done to the environment which will have to be a whole other post). The lack of things to do with children indoors during the winter is stressing me, combined with the fact that the only decent playground in the whole city appears to be permanently shut, and is patrolled by a particularly jobsworth man who won't even let you sneak in to have a swing. Always having to always have large amounts of cash around, because that is usually the only way to pay for anything, whether it be rent, bills, nursery fees, everything is also feeling debilitating, I'd like just to pay by card please. When we arrived we were so positive about Bosnia, so full of enthusiasm for this vibrant country, but suddenly we're feeling ground down by it.

Obviously England is taking on an image of perfection which is going to be cruelly shattered the minute we get back. In the meantime, I am off to try and locate the bits of Bosnia that we love to jolt myself out of this fug of bah humbug and winter blues.