A few years ago I lived and worked in London for a few months, residing in a pleasant but unremarkable house, doing a job at which I was fine but didn’t particularly enjoy. I’m from a different part of the country and returned from whence I came upon the job ending (this was always the plan, and it was a fixed-term job).
Since then, whenever I’m remotely near London I’ll take the time to drive past the area I lived in, down my old street, past the old workplace, the places I went for walks when I was there. I’ve even recreated my erstwhile on-foot commute for old times’ sake.
None of that would necessarily be strange had I had a whale of a time when I’d been there and was reliving the glory days. The facts, though, are I had an okay but thoroughly unremarkable time at the time, was only there relatively briefly and wasn’t in the least bit fussed or sad when I left. Yet I retain this yearning to go back and check up on the old haunts.
Perhaps this is an indication of a strange unhappiness somewhere within, or a need to justify my previous decisions to myself. Who knows. It just feels odd to have this nostalgia for something that wasn’t in the least bit exceptional or exciting at the time.
Anyone else ever do anything like that? Help me feel validated.