I feel like holding up a lit candle and swaying from side to side singing, we are the world, we are the children, but that's not very far from how I feel after my trip to Ghana. Don't get me wrong. My bags are unpacked, and all thoughts of decamping and moving back to Ghana are now...well, kinda buried.
I'm lovin' this enduring Autumn's stunning chilly skies. I enjoy wrapping up for firework nights and long walks in the park. The Child and I are now back to our routine, rushing to catch yellow-yellow leaves as they fall from trees; cuddling up on the sofa to watch Strictly. My horrendous commute continues and I'm back to turning up late for work, leaving early and stressing all the while. Living only for the magic 8.30 pm when, I can finally exhale and write.
Yet thoughts of Ghana are not far away. And I definitely want to visit more often. How lucky am I to love two countries.
And as a writer, I see London and Accra as a rich source of stories. From London, I want to write about otherness, difference and fitting in; from Ghana I want to find and draw from an endless well of rarely told stories of gay love; benign polygamy; charismatic Christianity; drug trafficking; elder romance and child entrepreneurs. The list is endless. All I have to do is be the best writer that I can be and hope that the publishing world will welcome my stories.