Homesickness is an odd feeling, isn’t it? Take my little cottage by the canal (metaphorically I mean. Don’t actually take it, please, otherwise I’ll be homeless AND homesick which would just be unlucky). Don’t get me wrong, I really love where I live; in my little cottage by the canal. My cottage is in Derbyshire, home of the beautiful Peak District and a pub that sells cheese with its selection of beers. I only have to step outside of the front door and I can hear the rushing water of the canal lock, see the dragonflies in my garden or hear the ducks on the water. I moved here because it’s close to Nottingham, a city I first moved to in 2006 because my job took me there. Of all the places I have ever lived since moving away, Nottingham is the only place that feels like home. Or Nottingham.

Despite this, every Sunday I get a feeling of homesickness; even though my little cottage by the canal is less than an hour and a half from the small, Yorkshire village where I grew up. I could hop in the car – although that would look silly, which is why I usually walk to it – and be there in less time than it takes to watch a football match. I don’t do this though. Instead, each Sunday, I am left wondering how medical this “sickness” actually is.

As a blood donor, I give blood in order to help people who are suffering illness. My worry is that, as someone who suffers homesickness, I may have passed this on. What if there is somebody out there, somebody who was perfectly happy where they lived, who just needed a little bit of blood? What if they are now fully recovered, full to the brim of lovely, red blood but are now suffering from a sudden feeling of homesickness? I don’t think they tested for that when I went to the blood donation centre place. If you’re reading this and you’ve recently had a transfusion – and if you previously weren’t homesick but are now – I can only apologise.

I wonder if anyone has ever been to the doctor to complain of homesickness? I suppose you’d have to go to your local GP although I’d imagine you couldn’t be totally honest with them. Not for fear that they may not recognise homesickness as a medical condition; rather for the fact that they are you’re local GP and you are, essentially, confessing to missing the one back home. You’re letting them know that they’re your local GP and not your home GP. Anyway, even if you got passed the awkwardness of that situation, I doubt they’d prescribe anything. Very sensitive people these local GPs.

I have thought about acupuncture but I’m not really sure that would help either. Anyway, it’s not the sort of thing that goes on back home. Which is ironic really; given that it is a homeopathic remedy.

So, despite having left home ten years ago, I still haven’t found a good cure for homesickness; although I have been working on a theory. See, when I have the first signs of flu (which is rare on account of my Polish antibodies), I’ll drink a flu remedy. When I have a hangover, I’ll drink lots of water. When I feel tired, I’ll drink an energy drink. So, with this in mind, when I get homesick I pop the kettle on and drink a mug of Yorkshire Tea. If and when that doesn’t work, as with today, I’ll have a pint of good, old-fashioned Yorkshire ale instead. Just as a last resort, like.

Sadly, although I have been trying this method for the past decade, it is still yet to cure my homesickness. That said, where would we be if our greatest scientists had given up at their first signs of failure? Would Newton have discovered gravity? No. Would Einstein have come up with the theory of relativity? No. Would someone have, rather bizarrely, cloned a sheep? No. So, as with the great scientists before me, I too shall not give up. In the name of science: Cheers!

Home Is Where The Heart Is... And The Homesickness.