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Belonging

Belonging Studies in Travel Writing Vol. 14, No. 3, September 2010, 305–316 Geoffrey Moorhouse I was weeding the backyard when the curlew glided just over my roof, heading for John’s pasture on the other side of the lane. For a moment, before I looked up, I mistook its piping for an oystercatcher’s because the sound was more piercing than Numenius arquater’s usually bubbling trill; but then its call changed to the familiar note as I unbent my back, and my heart rose to the bird that has throughout my life meant I am where I have always belonged. I grew up with the curlew on the other side of these hills, and during the years when I lived in the South and even farther afield, what I missed most of all apart from people who spoke the same tongue as I, who knew the same codes, was the sound of water tumbling and gushing down the Pennine slopes, and being both comforted and thrilled by the bird that belongs as no other does to the lonely high country of the North and to the wide wet sands exposed by ebb tides in the estuary of the Lune. What made yesterday http://www.deepdyve.com/assets/images/DeepDyve-Logo-lg.png Studies in Travel Writing Taylor & Francis

Belonging

Studies in Travel Writing , Volume 14 (3): 12 – Sep 1, 2010
12 pages

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References (21)

Publisher
Taylor & Francis
Copyright
Copyright Taylor & Francis Group, LLC
ISSN
1755-7550
eISSN
1364-5145
DOI
10.1080/13645145.2010.504329
Publisher site
See Article on Publisher Site

Abstract

Studies in Travel Writing Vol. 14, No. 3, September 2010, 305–316 Geoffrey Moorhouse I was weeding the backyard when the curlew glided just over my roof, heading for John’s pasture on the other side of the lane. For a moment, before I looked up, I mistook its piping for an oystercatcher’s because the sound was more piercing than Numenius arquater’s usually bubbling trill; but then its call changed to the familiar note as I unbent my back, and my heart rose to the bird that has throughout my life meant I am where I have always belonged. I grew up with the curlew on the other side of these hills, and during the years when I lived in the South and even farther afield, what I missed most of all apart from people who spoke the same tongue as I, who knew the same codes, was the sound of water tumbling and gushing down the Pennine slopes, and being both comforted and thrilled by the bird that belongs as no other does to the lonely high country of the North and to the wide wet sands exposed by ebb tides in the estuary of the Lune. What made yesterday

Journal

Studies in Travel WritingTaylor & Francis

Published: Sep 1, 2010

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