We don’t get wind in Oxford: not wind like this, anyway. The air is passionate and angry, full of bitter sea salt and wild energy. It smells like Aberystwyth… and still a little like “home”.
But this time I’m here as a visitor, of course. Just another tourist: and that’s a very strange and alien feeling, to me.
I don’t think you’re ever erally a “tourist” to Aber. once you have lived there. For me, its always been a returning home, rather than visiting. I’ve been gone for 18-odd months and it still feels that way. I’ll be amazed if that eevr changes, unless Aber. changes so much I don’t recognise it anymore. But at the moment, even with the changing and of shops and whatever, I can still wander round without thinking or gettting lost, so its still home to me. Leiceter has never felt that way to me, even after 18 years of childhood, and over a year of adult life here. Maybe Aber. is just magical…