Is there any more comforting feeling than the one that washes over you when you’re almost home? Regardless if you’ve been away for years, months or just days, knowing you’re nearly there has the same effect as a reassuring smile or a familiar accent; you can finally relax.
We asked our favourite writers, journalists and broadcasters all about how returning home made them feel. And while the notion of home may be relative, the answers show that whatever it means to you, it really is where the heart is.
“I don’t live there anymore, but whenever I return to Ho Chi Minh City I make for the open air bar on the rooftop of the iconic Rex Hotel. This was where the press corp used to drink during the Vietnam War. The band there these days is crap and cheesy and the beer is overpriced, but the cool air, the sense of history and the view beyond the flashing neon signs to the teeming streets below make this an essential first port of call. “
Duncan Forgan, Travel Magazine Editor
“For me coming home is really personal, it’s not flying into Heathrow, or seeing Big Ben or any thing like that. Coming home for me is my kitchen. Somewhat predictably no tea in the world tastes like one out of my kettle and marmite on toast is the thing I crave most made in my own toaster whilst being watched by my soppy, ever-hopeful-of-a-bit, dog Dusty. “
Tim Arthur, Global CEO Time Out
“I know I’m definitely back in Glasgow whenever I see the Duke of Wellington’s statue with the traffic cone on his head. It’s every Glaswegian’s duty to make sure he’s never without his hat. I’ve yet to see him without it and it gives me enormous satisfaction.”
Jamie Lafferty, Travel Writer
“I was born out West, and lived out there – along the M4 corridor – for years, but I moved to London early on to make my fortune. Travelling back home when the window gets strafed by sunlight through the barbed wire of RAF Northolt – with the Polish memorial – it feels like I’ve managed to burst free of the gravitational pull of London. Long expanses of windblown green grass just opening out after the gridlock, the lights and the lonely planes there, is the bit that says This Is Now The Shires. You don’t get many RAF bases in Soho or Old Street you know. It’s the same feeling I used to get swimming as a kid when I could feel my feet touch the bottom of the pool again.”