I'm like an old dog, I hate to be run off from home.
I just love home. I just attached to it since I grew up there my entire life.
The cat is the only non-gregarious domestic animal. It is retained by its extra-ordinary adhesion to the comforts of the house in which it is reared.
This fond attachment to the well-known place Whence first we started into life's long race, Maintains its hold with such unfailing sway, We feel it e'en in age, and at our latest day.
If we had loads of money as a family, things would be different and they'd come to visit more and I'd get to spend more time here. But I'm laying down roots in America so when I'm there, just being at home, it's harder to break away from that.
I am not someone who will move away from home.
There are some people, who place enormous value on their home and feel that it defines them, that a stain on the carpet is a personal defilement. There are others, and I think I am one of them, who are entirely indifferent to where they live.
I love home. I'd rather be at home than anywhere else.
I find myself very attached to the places I live, and moving is never easy for me.
Since I was an adult, I've always lived in the centre of London - King's Cross, Bloomsbury - and never thought I'd leave.
I love home. I'll stay up there for days on end, I won't even go down the driveway to look for the mail.
Some people, you can see that they're in a house just because it functions OK for them. It checks the boxes for certain things that they need, but you can tell that they're not emotionally connected to the house.
