I know that The Cave is mentioned frequently in my posts and comments, but there is a reason for this. In my life I have had only four homes – the home in which I grew up, the home where Zangada and I spent most of our married life, our home in Australia and, finally, The Cave.
Each of the first three homes was very special to me, especially now in terms of memories, because I left none of them without a tugging of the heart strings. This must have been preying on my mind of late for I woke early one morning not so long ago with a waking dream and the phrase “Home, the house you can walk around in the dark” bouncing round in my head, the point being that anyone can live in a house for a while, but what makes a home?
For me, in each of these four homes, I could wake up in the middle of the night and, for example, make a cup of tea in total darkness, being able to put my hand on every ingredient, teaspoon and cup knowing instinctively on which shelf and in which drawer each sat. But much more than that, Home represents safety. Security. Home is not Heimat – “The Homeland” in whichever language and a totally different concept. Home is much more specific than that, so I asked an artistic friend to interpret the phrase. The above frame was the result and I think it sums it up perfectly, much more so than my inadequate photography. At some point they will carry me off the hill paws upwards, and bring my ashes back to be buried here.
What does home mean to you?
OZ
Boadicea's Chariot 
Hello OZ,
I can find my way, in the dark, at the office too. To me home is not only about knowing every bit. It’s about peace and safety, I guess. As the cliche goes; Home is where your heart is…
A stable environment for my children, I have been in this house now 16 years, my children know nowhere else, mission accomplished.
I’ll probably end my days in this home of ours only because I absolutely hate moving. 😉
When we moved here I said the removals guys,
“Great job. Thanks. But I’ll never be using you again.”
The look on their faces was amusing. As a child I had moved about 5 times before I was 7. My eldest moved when he was 19 days old and not since. Like Soutie, giving a stable environment is very important, and making your mark upon a place to make it your own.
Levent – Good evening and welocme. “Peace and safety” is a good basis for a home, much the same as my “Home represents safety. Security.” comment in the post. The concept is much the same.
OZ
Hiya, Soutie – The cubs never lived in The Cave, but they and the grandcubs love to visit every summer for holidays. One day they will have it all.
OZ
Pseu – A “stable environment” can be provided in any house, but what makes a home?
OZ
My flat would never be photographed for house and garden, but visitors say it’s homely. A bit scruffy, often untidy. Too many books and too few shelves. Lots of evidence of interests and activity.
I can find my way round it in the dark. Often do in the winter, I loathe electric lights in the morning. It’s my nest, my retreat, a place where my friends come and we eat drink and talk. It’s a work place; a repository for family mementos. It’s the place where I heard that my father was dying and then had died. Where I have been through every emotion from grief to great joy. It was new when I moved here, so it’s been mine to create and when I move on, I hope it will feel like a homeo the next people who live here.
If the dogs would stay in one place I could probably walk round our house in the dark without falling over.
I think, at last count, that my present abode is the 17th house I have owned, and there have also been several extended stays in rented accommodation. Some have been reasonably large, some with swimming pools, some, like the current low-set, rather small.
But they have each been my home (though perhaps not the rented ones). The place where I hang my metaphorical hat, stumble out to make tea with only half an eye operational, laugh and cry with friends and family.
A good few years ago, my son pointed out to me that I had had 47 permanent addresses.
“Rubbish” said I.
“I’ve written them down” said he.
The little swine was right. I suppose it must about 50+ now.
We will not go into the exigencies and vicissitude of existence that necessitated this somewhat parlous state of affairs!
But suffice it to say, I have led an ‘interesting’ life.
Twice I have lost everything I owned except the contents of a suitcase that I could carry and the clothes I stood up in, plus passport and jewelery.
To both the boy and I home was where you hung your hat and wherever we were together was home, however transient. Possessions were always divvied up according to who wanted what where at the time. His flat was hideously deja bloody vu to me as everything was mine too!
You become very crafty with possessions, nothing built in, everything movable, Good small antiques, oriental rugs(not too big), ruthlessly weed clothing, shoes, books to a managable collection, flog off anything ruthlessly not required on voyage! No anal collecting of useless crap, functional only!
I do not think human security depends on a specific property and possessions, after all you could have a fire tomorrow and lose the lot.
Children’s security depends on knowing they are loved pretty well unconditionally, not lurking in the same bedroom until you turf them out! I suppose spouses of a lifetime are so too, not that I personally see it that way. The dogs of course are the most important of the lot, no home without rioting caninity and they don’t care where they are as long as they are with you! I’ve always noticed how transcontinental travelling dogs know its all different but take a very sangfroid attitude to it all immediately they are out of their travelling boxes, a sort of on with the motley response and who cares, the old girl is here so its OK!
I have to admit I make no attempt whatsoever to walk round in the dark.
Strangely enough, garden’s are in a different mental compartment, they have nothing whatsoever to do with ‘home’. Its an art form expression.
Interesting subject.
I have never felt particularly attached to any of my houses, OZ, but I haven’t raised children and have no important ties to any home (except the one I grew up in) however good the memories. For me, owning land was the thing which captured my heart. The idea was thrilling to me; I could never buy so many acres in England, although in Australia, the amount of land I own is of no significance whatsoever.
When I first saw my property, it seemed quite perfect to me and I fell in love immediately, although it’s only scrub land. I signed the contract without realising the property extended beyond the dense tree-line, very silly I know. When I moved in and explored, I was enchanted to find a dry creek bed; a lovely secret place, with small islands, ancient rocks and beautiful trees. The land, and the creatures which shared my home, were always a joy. I miss it very much and hope I can see it again soon.
What makes it home? Making your own mark upon it… if only in the way the cupboards are organised!
(Once after a few weeks away from home when Scout was small we came back to a cold and dark house. He crawled along the landing.
“Mummy, the carpets different. Someone’s trimmed it.”
In some way the time away had made the familiar unfamiliar to him and he had to become re-accustomed to it.
I often wonder if I visited a home from my past if I would remember it as it was in reality, or if memory would have distorted it.)
PS I have walked the property at night, with the help of a full moon. 🙂
I don’t make a habit of walking around in the dark, Oz, I doubt I would survive the experience. We no longer have a dog but the last one slept either by the bed or on the landing and was very indignant about being trodden on.
Home is the family, and that’s all I care about really; the rest is window dressing, but we all need a base and familiar surroundings.
Isobelandcat – “It’s my nest, my retreat.” Oh yes!
OZ
Home? I think it is where your best memories are. It is the place where you knew safety and warmth, security and love. It’s where the heart and soul is.
Home – for me – is the house I grew up in, on a council estate where everyone knew everyone else and there was a real sense of community that sadly we don’t have anymore. Where I am now – renting – I could die and no-one would spare me a thought. No-one talks to anyone, no-one keeps an eye out for anyone and everyone just shuts themselves away. It’s a desert of modern living.
Jonty
Jazz – Get rid of the dogs. Get cats! 🙂
The furballs
I’m not sure I could work out how many times I’ve moved, especially if I tried to put in all the six months here and six months there. That being so, I’ve learnt to relinquish emotional ties to bricks and mortar, quite apart from the fact that some of the memories attached to some places are not very pleasant!
I walked out of a four bedroomed house, taking my books, clothing, jewellery, a box of ‘memories’, and sufficient furniture to fit into a one-bedroomed flat – then called a friend to clear the rest. One of the best moves I ever made.
I went with my brother to look at a place that we’d lived in and from which we had been separated never to meet again for just over 25 years. It was a most peculiar experience – the memories were there, but it was like it all happened to a stranger.
Home is where I / we am / are, and where the world comes in only at my / our invitation.
Bearsy – I saw somewhere, “The internet is where I hang my @”
OZ
:D)
Oh, I didn’t need the bracket to hang anything.
Home is “when” not “where” for me. It’s when the family is all gathered together, usually for Christmas, birthdays and other events. It doesn’t matter if it’s a rented cottage in Suffolk or a flat in Edinburgh when both sons ran the marathon or the Gellert Hotel in Budapest for my birthday. Next “home” will be daughter’s house in Norfolk for her birthday which means I will be able to cook for steadily expanding family and new granddaughter will see all her father’s family together for the first time.
Christina – Oooh, too many elements to ingest fully at this time of Portuguese night. If I may, I’d like to sleep on your comments and reply to you in the morning. The Cave is warm and safe and full of accumulated possessions and memories.
OZ
Bilby – Interesting you write of “home” as being where you raise children. As I mentioned to Soutie (who expressed much the same sentiments as you did), the cubs never lived in The Cave but visit every year with the grandcubs to enjoy its many attractions.
OZ
Pseu – My parents still live in the house where I was raised and which I once called home, but I no longer think of it as that. I love them both dearly and will be staying with them for a few days later this month (celebration of litter cub’s big five oh birthday), but at the end of the visit I will be glad to board the plane and come home to The Cave.
OZ
Biçby @ #14 – I can feel a howl coming on. 🙂 Rural Portugal is like rural Aussie in that the strictly fenced and hedged property boundaries found in the UK are unknown. For sure, everyone knows to the millimeter who owns what, but I can lope over my boundary any time I want and spend time on another hillside.
OZ
I have moved so many times I have lost count. I moved to Europe in 48. That would have been at least the third house prior to that move. Since then, I have lived on on various continents and in several countries, the rest is just a blur. I have a felling that I will turn my toes up here though.
Araminta -I’m not surprised you don’t make a habit of walking around in the dark, what with Eff being abroad and all. 😦 Younger cub is contemplatung a career move to Saudi. I’ve never been there and could never view it as “home” just because he’s there any more than he could view The Cave as “home”. However, The Cave is the home to which he could always return if necessary.
OZ
ddraigmor – Your first paragraph describes home exaxctly. The second part is difficult and I’m not sure how to reply without appearing trite, but I hope you soon find a sense of belonging and a home. I also sincerely hope that didn’t sound trite. 🙂
OZ
Boadicea – From the comments that people have made above I’m beginning to think, with some consideable surprise, that I am the odd one out. My life has unknowingly been very sheltered and boring.
OZ
Sheona – “Home is “when” not “where” for me.”
Enjoy!!
Big furry hug.
OZ
Tocino – Wherever your “here” now is, it sounds as though you have finally come home. Congratulations! 🙂
OZ
As a Squaddie brat and later a squaddie in my own right, houses were just that, houses. Home is the family, not bricks and mortar. That said, you all, I think, know the story of the Oxo Tower 🙂 But even then, ‘home’ was people, not a place.
Not exactly related, but the Turkish immigrants in Germany. I have never seen one who calls Germany home, no matter how long they live there. I’m not sure about the second and third generation.
I know, they return to Turkey, when they get old, to die. Most of their last will, was to be burried in Turkey.
Was there a story about elephants going to somewhere to die?
Levent – many of the first generation Greek immigrants here go back to Greece to die, too.
As said many times, we have a lot in common. You inspired my last post Boadicea.
OZ, thanks for the big furry hug. Yesterday the temperature outside daughter’s house was -7 when she set off for work, so I may need all the furry hugs going. The weather will have improved by April, won’t it? Hope your rain has stopped. It’s still pretty wet in Gib.
Zangado, not trite at all.
I mourn the loss of commnity keenly. Unlike my home town in Wales, moving to England after college was a neccesity – I cannot practice in Wales as I don’t speak or write Welsh fluently – now there’s apartheid look you! I have yet to find somewhere neighbourly, and that is being honest. Folk just don’t want to be friendly!
I am also still at sea in my heart so finding belonging is not for me. I’m still out there because that was the nature of the life I led. Bravo 22c got it in one for me – home is people.
It is sometimes said that buildings have an aura about them be it bad or good. For example, The German Hospital in Jersey C.I. has a very chilling atmosphere, some terrible things happened there and you can feel something, an angst, call it what you will. It’s almost as of the very walls have soaked up the hate and fear that went on in there and is now excreted into the air you breath.
But other places, Oldmovietowers for instance is a happy place, sure there has been some sadness over the years but no more and no less than most. Mrsoldmovie and I have lived there for 31 years, the kids have flown though the youngest is back for a short while as she buys a new apartment. People have asked why we have never moved ‘up’, simple answer is that we loved the house from the start, it has a warm feeling, a kindly soul and that’s what I call ‘Home’.
Apologies for being a bit late to this, OZ but enjoyed your blog and the comments.
I don’t know why but the word “home” conjures up my family home and mum and mugs of tea at the kitchen table with toasted teacakes. Perhaps it’s because it’s the place where I always felt cared for. Raising a family, I suppose I’ve always been the home-maker and carer. Hope the boys feel the same about this place. I suspect they might, as all their childhood memories are rooted here.
I was in an elderly relative’s home yesterday and it was touchingly poignant how her neat and tidy bungalow was dotted with relics from the homes she’s had in the past – mementoes and photographs of the family at various ages. That’s the difference between a house and a home.
Sheona – There are plenty more where that came from. 🙂
ddraigmor – You ought to go right now to Brandwood’s post on t’other side http://my.telegraph.co.uk/brandwood/blog/2010/03/08/so?com_pg=2 and repeat your comment. Take a tin hat with you, and not one of the baco-foil variety.
OMG – Oldmovietowers seems to have all the same characteristics as The Cave.
Janh – And my apologies for being late too! The comments on this post seem to indicate a pretty even split between those whose present location (in varying degrees) is home and those who had a home in the past. The Cave is home.
OZ