A short (and sleepy) post to mark my return from camp. Sleepy because it's only ten to seven as I start to write this and I could quite happily go to bed right now! Short because I probably will do just that very soon and I want to save the majority of my thoughts until I can do them justice. However, I also want briefly to acknowledge what is, for me, one of the most striking aspects of camp.
The significance of the title I've chosen is twofold - for, whilst it fits with the fact that I'm now back home in London, it would be equally apposite as a description for the beginning of my holiday. Going to camp each year is synonymous with going home - going home to my favourite place in the UK, and perhaps even in the world. Returning to the fold of my Woodlarks (and, more specifically now, Pathfinders) family - a constant yet ever-changing and -growing circle of people and love. So, although I'll be extremely happy to snuggle up in my nice, warm (indoor!) bed tonight at a reasonable hour, I'll also be missing the late night (early morning!?) chats with fabulous friends - some of whom I've known for over a decade and others I only met this week but will hang on to for life.
More detailed and less philosophical words soon but I'm already counting the months, weeks and days until we can be there again!
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