Category — Woking

Echoing my earlier sentiments about whether or not one can ever really go home again, the answer is unequivocally and resoundingly “yes!”

Two days back again in Woking with the requisite visit to both ACS (my old school, for non-alumni friends reading this post) and my old house in The Hockering, convince me that while many things do change over time, if you’re lucky enough, you can indeed go home to those sites, smells, and sounds that carry the bulk of our memories.

Last spring I made my first trek back to both of those locales in 27 years.  I had the good fortune of seeing my old French teacher and friend, Steve Baker, and walking the neighborhood with both Eric and my childhood best friend, Blue.  We met the family that now lives in my old home, and it didn’t take me long to convince her that in fact I was not a random stranger knocking on her door, but a kindred spirit who had once played in and loved the house and garden she continues to lovingly tend and expand.

So, just over one year later, we came knocking on her door again, this time with kids in tow and bearing an aerial photograph of the garden I had promised her during our last visit.  In spite of arriving only a couple of hours prior to the onset of a large wedding reception in the garden, we were once again graciously welcomed with open arms.

While much is the same, much is different.  My old hide-out, for example, used to be a huge bamboo tree that was cleared out in the center.  It still stands, though the “˜new’ garden hide-out for kids is a large holly shrub, again with a clearing in the center.  The old bomb shelter has been replaced with a koi pond and the vegetable garden removed, though the apple, pear and crabapple trees my dad once planted still stand and bear fruit.

The Woking station and town center have also changed, yet in some ways, remain untouched by time.  The town center now has a small mall attached to it, while the Boots and W.H. Smith are in exactly the same place they were when we first moved there 32 years ago.  To complete the journey down memory lane, I had the good fortune of time and weather to re-walk my old daily route, from the station to our house, with Michael along for the journey.

Today we are making our way to Brighton, where I will spend the next day and a half with Blue, Clare and their girls.  Though we have stayed in touch all of these years, it is a very special thing for me to finally introduce Blue to my children — especially Michael, who is the same age Blue and I were when we first met.  Time spent with Blue and Clare is always treasured time, marked with deep affection and much laughter and I cannot think of a better way to wrap up my trip back “˜home’…