An argument

My time here is fast coming to an end, being less than five weeks left before I return to Canada and leave everything here behind--including my bed linen. I'm sure my house mates will be thrilled at the treasures left for them to scavenge.

- A nearly-used box of Soft Touch laundry detergent with Aloe Vera.
- A comforter and two pillows --"to the highest bidder" would make me a few quid no doubt.
- Two towels and a roll of quarter-ply toilet paper.
- A dwindling bag of sugar and what will be a few kernels of couscous

And perhaps most coveted: cupboard and fridge and freezer shelf space. You have to make six eggs, four apples, half a cube of butter and a vanishing bottle of soya sauce look as generous as a Chinese buffet or you will lose your shelf-space before you can restock it.

My freezer bin was taken over while I was in Dublin. I stole someone else's. I've mastered a few the tricks of the trade during my stay: like always take your keys with you because the security at Castle Irwell takes great amusment from making locked-out Irdwellers wait for long periods of time before letting them back into their cells.

...And, if you're going to lock yourself out of your room--best do it in your pajamas or in a towel after having a shower because then Castle Irwell security is quick to please.

And I've all but mastered the transportation system. Okay, strong word. But the thought of planes, trains, busses, Metro Links, Tubes and (when in Ireland, horse-drawn rickshaws) does not stike the fear of anything in me anymore.

But all these things I've realized are just a part of my everyday life, and I decided I was torn between declaring homesickness and wondering where my time in England went.

The case for wondering where the time has gone:

1. The thought that I won't see Ireland for a long time, if ever again, isn't something I can easily shrug off. And then I think, "so how feasible IS moving to Ireland?"

2. I panic because my ability to impersonate the English accent, and its innumerable varieties, is sub-standard at best. And then I set out practicing right away: Liverpeewwl, you alriiight, errmm, hiya...

4. I tally up the five assignments I have due in four weeks.

5. I realize it's nearly December and that I wore jeans and a tank top off the plane upon my arrival.

6. My made-in-Manchester friends ask me how many days I have left and whether they will ever see me again.

7. I tell my friends from home "I'll see you soon," and I mean it.

The case for homesickness:

1. I'm reading, watching and listening to Canadian media on a regular basis.
- this includes following the Parliament squabble resulting from Peter McKay reffering to his ex-girlfriend, Belinda Stronach, as a dog, which made for the most exciting Canadian politcal news since I've been gone
- Kamloops' new country music station, Country-103 and its running call-in prize for a set of "brand new winter tires!"

And then you know you're still Canadian when you hear the prize and think: "ooo, could use that."

3. I missed the Grey Cup and was genuinely disappointed. And then I was even more disappointed to find that 75% of the Canadians I was talking to via the internet while the game was being aired were not watching it. And then I thought--how Canadian to call it the Grey Cup and not the Super Bowl.

4. I think about snow. I even wrote about snow in my creative writing class--if that isn't a strong argument for homesickness, I don't know what else is...

5. When people ask me how I've found England and whether or not I'm looking forward to leaving, I say "I really like England, but I love Canada."

The truth is, I can't long for home or want to stay here because one will inevitably exclude the other. And it is both, Canada and England--more accurately, what England has done for me--that I am lucky to have a part in.