I'm back! I hope you’ve been desperate for my words, nervously clicking refresh wondering where on earth this godly figure has buggered off to. WELL, I’m back in your emails, folks, and let me tell you, it feels good. Some normality for all of us. Thank the Pegan angels! Shall we?

A bit of an intro for the newbies, WELCOME IN (as the Americans say when you enter a shop). My name is Sammy and I’m living in North Carolina, USA. I’m just a humble gal from Herfordshire (the County of opportunity?!) in the UK. I’ve been here for 10 months which is RIDICULOUS and fuck me, what the fuck. I am here for my husband’s work, which makes me an #EXPATWIFE, but Christ all mighty, getting work out here has been nothing but a total slag, which I will update you next time. On the record, I’m happily married, no children by choice - vaginas are strictly entry only. More on that another time.

Regulars here will know I’m obsessed with my mum’s neck, or any neck of those you love (okay my husbands and my mum’s I don’t love ALL necks you dreadful perverts) but you can imagine my anticipation as I walk in the door and see mum standing there, in her bird like 80 year old stance, I scooped her up and drank in the intoxicating smell of skin and powder. I’d not been there 5 minutes and already she was driving me crazy, slightly different than the last time I visited home (she had a fall in April and I went home to care for her) this time, she was no longer in a vulnerable state where I did everything for her, she was dishing out the orders and I think it took her 3hrs to ask how the flight was. Go mum! You never let me down.

The first week in the UK was spent visiting friends and family, which is always a hectic and energy-filled affair. As one knows, when you live abroad, you give friends at least 6 months’ notice of when you’ll be in town, 40000 Whatsapp messages, voicenotes, emails, letters, telegrams, by carrier Pigeon. I’ll be here then, so please seal it in your diary now! It’s exhausting but essential. Then comes the excuses a week before I arrive, ‘Oh I can’t make it, I’ve got to read the Yellow Pages’ ‘I need to clean the Oven’ ‘My dog (that I don’t own) has eaten my diary and I forgot’ guys it was so disappointing and a reminder that for the love of god, have low expectations. Expect people not to care like you, and the ones who really want to be there will be. I’m in a slightly dramatic mood and still reeling from it, well, reeling suggests anger, and yes, I guess I am angry, but I feel overlooked. I’m 44, I live in America, by now, I know who’s in my corner and who isn’t, but I don’t have endless amounts of time when I come home, all expats and fellow peeps that moved away, you hear me? I wish people understood that when you live away, every moment is counted, hence the planning. It spiralled me into feeling insignificant and rejected. You can’t help but feel inadequate, like them not turning up is a reflection on you. But if my friend Rachel, who is reading this, will give me a rollocking for saying this! LOVE YOU, LADY RACH. I know I’m adorable and worthy, but it just plays with your head and emotions. The inner, 10-year-old Sammy is crying, but what about me? Standing alone, blowing out a birthday cake with no friends. Okay, I’ve finished my sob story, and we can all calm our farm.

What was so wonderful was seeing friends who make your soul sing, just being in their company makes you feel safe and takes you right back to when you first met. I saw my Irish friend, Edel, who has the best accent on the planet, Samantha, will I make you a tea’ in her gorgeous drawl. She could say ‘I’ve taken a massive shite’ and make it sound poetic and worthy of an award. We met in Sydney, both living out there and as the kids say ‘Living our best life’ - aged 27, impressionable and thinking we were invisible and that nothing could touch us (aside from deeply inappropriate men) Our bonding came when we both got hired to work on a film ‘fi-lum’ in the outback of Australia, which was sponsored by Phil Collins and Corona lager. She made me listen to ‘True Colours’ the entire way to the small, dusty outback town. If I didn’t love her so much, I’d have dropped her by the bus stop, but we were young, dumb and had a film to make.

Next on the agenda, Az and I flew to Spain, Alicante, no less. We were joining my in-laws and Az’s sisters, and his nieces and nephews.

Families. We know the drill. No such thing as normal, and everyone has a story to tell, vulnerabilities, generational trauma, all thrown in. Our parents don’t mean to fuck us up, but of course they do. Bless ‘em’. There were reservations about how this holiday might go, we were in Spain, so that was a win, but isn’t it who you’re with that makes the experience? I’m pleased to announce that the 4 days went splendidly. All of us on our best behaviour, no digs or passive-aggressive comments, certainly no Jerry Springer fodder. It was lovely. Really lovely. I didn’t let myself down or others down, as they all baked themselves with oil sunscreen (yikes!) I sat under a Parasol with factor 50 on. Accompanied by a dreadful magazine that I like to read when travelling, ‘My mum is actually my dad and Uncle’ type content. Quality!

The kids (Az included) went crabbing and fished up all kinds of weird sea creatures. I stayed well clear, don’t worry, no sea life was harmed, and all was gently returned.

I did go into the sea, it was refreshingly cold, I’ve never had a great relationship with water unless it’s a bath. I avoided water at all costs, and if I had to go in, I’d be wailing until I could get out, but in my maturing years, I’m into it; it’s calming and relaxing. I didn’t stay in it long, though - I had further abysmal content to read…

The food-oh the food. Fresh, warm white bread, Garlic Prawns, Paella, Tortilla, I purposely ate little and often so I could cram as much in as possible. I’m delighted to say I also tried ‘Boquerones’ - Anchovies in Vinegar, normally this would make me barf for the hills, but I tried them and loved the tangy, meaty little blighters. All that bread, all that food, my bowels had their work cut out, but I’m pleased to report that operations are back in service.

After Spain, we headed back to the UK for a further 4 nights before returning to the US. I don’t know why, I always expect more from my family, like an urgency of wanting to cram in time before I leave, after I had organised a night together on the Saturday, I also suggested a walk over near a beauty spot in my home town on Sunday lunchtime, on the time that my sister was due to arrive she called and said everyone was now busy doing other things, she too had stuff to do. She may as well have said she wanted to give her toilet a thorough going over. She came over to my mum’s a bit later, I gave her gifts to give my nieces, neither of them thanked me or wished me a safe flight. I left the UK seriously questioning what the point was of being the one who always makes the effort, who always instigates everything. I know it doesn’t come from a bad place, but it hurts. Perhaps I’m just permanently being punished for moving away. Perhaps I’m oversensitive. As you can hear, it’s been a heavy week, but I’m coming round, gang, don’t worry.

I’ve got therapy tomorrow, I hope she’s ready, the poor cow.

It’s a quiet relief to be back in our home, but in America? It’s complicated. I like the reliable good weather, I like our friends and the ease we have with seeing them and doing things, but I still feel largely not part of its fabric, perhaps because I’m not working yet and feel little sense of ‘purpose’ to my day to day living but good things are happening which I’ll update you with next week.

Right, my lil love doves, thank you for being here and bearing with! I wish you a great Sunday wherever you are in this spinning ball of dust.

Much love and smooches,

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