I’ve been thinking about home since my last post.

There are so many times in my twenties where I feel in between two homes – that of my parents, and the home that I’ll build with my own family. And often I feel like I should be closer to that second home than I am. But actually, home is where I am loved.

Home is at my flat, with those crazy, incredible and wonderful girls.

Home is going to the pub at 5 and coming back at 7 to cook sausage rolls and bake cookies and watch a cheesy movie together.

Home is singing the first three words of a song and knowing those girls will be your harmonisers, dancers, percussion set and hype men.

Home is having people who will support you no matter what – in song and in dance and in life.

Home is loving, and being loved.