A Sort of Home

So here I am, back in Liberec. Sitting with Henry and Rob and Stevie and Milan in front of Plzenka, talking football at the top of the sloping, cobbled street between the town hall and the bus station. Pints of beer arrive unordered at the table. I wash them down with fried cheese and crinkle cut chips and catch the last tram home. It feels as if I've never been away.