Unease… and the problem of being an incomer

I’ve got the hang of this place, the place itself.  That is comparatively easy as it’s probably slightly less than a tenth the size of Birmingham.  I can now find most of the places that I need to find and the smallness of the city means that there is interesting countryside only a few minutes away.

The “locals” that I work with are getting used to my rather abrasive accent and even find it amusing. But I don’t know anyone here.  The people I work with only socialise with each other when someone leaves and I have met nobody else at work who is the slightest bit interested in knowing me outside what I do in the workplace.

“Your” people at work are all nice enough, but because of what I can tactfully describe as “my/our circumstances”, in most cases I am aware of a faint barrier between me and them.  I don’t conform in the right way, you see, so I will remain at arm’s length, a pace behind  – until or unless things change, but I don’t envisage that for a good while, if ever.

However, they think the way they think; I can’t change that, nor would I want to.  That’s just the way things are.  I suppose if I was feeling at all arrogant, I could say that it’s their loss and not mine.

But there are a lack of people here for me.  If you left, or told me to leave, or something else of that nature happened, then there would be nothing keeping me here at all.  I would be gone, probably within a day or two and other than my name on a hospital payroll and a few bills, there would be no proof that I’d ever been here at all.  I am, in effect, quite invisible here.

I don’t think I’m that bad at getting to know people, but I have not had much luck here at all.  It’s not a neighbourly neighbourhood that I live in.  If I locked myself out of the house, I would not know anyone by name to ask for help.

Without you here, I am completely alone.  All those who are dear to me are in Birmingham, the place that’s forever home, but at the same time, not home – as home is with you.

Maybe there will be progress – or maybe this little city will always be lonely to some extent or another.