The Hills Are Alive....

When you've been away from home whether on holiday or just another day at work, is there a corner that you turn or a landmark that you pass that lets you know "I'm nearly there, I'm nearly home"?

You get that reassuring warmth like a security blanket just from the knowledge that home is near. The place where you can kick off your shoes, relax, do what you want. Or maybe it's back to the people that you love and a place brimming over with memories.

I get that feeling returning to my native homeland, a small village only 25 miles from where I live at present. Though I have outgrown it and its changed a lot since my childhood it's still 'home'. It's where my mum still lives, where I went to school and where all my memories of my late grandparents are situated.

My particular landmark is 'Falkland Hill' (or East Lomond), said to be an extinct volcano it towers 422m above the fields and roads of the area. From my childhood home you look onto it's view and now if I walk along my current street I get a mirror image. When I first moved to this unfamiliar town it comforted me to know my mum was just 'over the hill'.

This picture shows my brother and I around 1984 (he was too much of a little pussy to climb the gate) with Falkland Hill in the distance.

It may surprise you to know I have climbed to the top of the hill only once in 2003.. with the Mister, his sister, our niece and Patch the dog. It was a great personal achievement which I hope someday my little lungs will allow me to repeat.