"So... Tell us about GHANA."

God I hate that phrase. I've heard that more than any other since I got back home, a week ago yesterday.

Tell you about Ghana?

Whenever anyone asks, my mind becomes a total blank. I mean, when someone says 'tell us about Ghana', all they really want to hear is a couple of sentences, summing up the fact that I had a lovely time, but nothing to make them feel inadequate about what they've been doing with their year. Maybe... five minutes of me talking, tops. Then I can shut up.

There's no way I can sum up Ghana in so little time. And whenever anyone even mentions it, I find the words just come spilling out of my mouth in such vast quantities that the person on the receiving end soon gets a slightly glazed look. I want people to try and understand where I've been, what I've been doing, the people I've met. How can you make people feel the baking heat of an African sun with nothing more than words?

It never works. All that happens is I go rattling on and on, and I can see them slipping away slightly- I know I asked, but I didn't want a bloody thesis on the subject- and the whole topic starts to feel slightly inadequate...

I miss Ghana. I knew I was going to, but it doesn't make it any easier. I miss being yelled at, I miss the beauty of the early mornings, before the heat casts a haze over the ground. I miss my children so much, I find myself hearing their voices shouting in my name, and have to look around just in case-

They're never there, but I could have sworn I heard them running after me.

It's not that I haven't enjoyed a lot of things about being home. It's fantastic to have a running shower twice a day, to see my family again, totally unchanged, to have everybody exclaiming "Goodness, look how brown you are!" It was even nice to get back to my old job at the GP practice this morning, to bring some routine back into my life.

But now I am a little cold, and a little lonely. I'm trying so hard to keep the happiness of this past six months alive by talking about my experience, but my efforts always end in frustration when the people I talk to go "yeah, I get it. Cool."

No, mate. You don't.

But there are bright moments. I was walking to work today, and there was a touch on my arm. An old black man was looking down at the two chunky bracelets I wear on my right wrist, with a bright spark of curiosity.

"...Where did you get those?"

That familiar accent. I told him. We smiled, we shook hands- with a click on the end. And for a second, It was just like being out there again.

Here I am again

Sitting in the internet cafe, the chickens strolling past. And I cannot for one second believe that I am about to write, for the second time this year, 'tomorrow we fly'. It's all passed so soon I almost feel like I've been conned- surely five months should have lasted sl-i-i-ghtly longer than this?

Apparently not, and at around ten thirty tomorrow night I will be leaving Ghana. I feel as though I should impart some highly meaningful message about my experience to my followers, find some way of demonstrating that the experience has put me in touch with my Deeper Side. But sitting here, I'm coming up with absolutely nothing. I don't know where to start, or how to try and explain about the ways in which this trip has altered my perspectives on life.

I suppose I could take things down to a very basic level, and go right back to the beginning, A-level results day, or The Day My Life Ended, as I used to think of it. Sitting in front of the family laptop, staring blankly at the UCAS website as it chirpily informed me that I had not made it into the university of my choice, it was like all my energy had drained away in a second. I thought I was useless, that I would never get anywhere or achieve anything, no matter how hard I pushed myself. What was the point in making an effort over anything ever again, I wondered. To get into Uni was all I had been working for, for about five years, and I hadn't got there. Ergo, I was a waste of space and nothing anyone said would convince me otherwise. Everything looked totally bleak.

September passed in a haze of bleak, everything was a big pile of shite, I joined some classes and looked online for ways to fill my time, but I still failed to see the point in everything. Even after that entirely unexpected phonecall, and my uncertain agreement to come to Ghana, I never really thought I'd be breaking routine, least of all to go to Africa. I mean, Africa was so damn far away!

And when, against all my beliefs, I actually stepped off the plane and realised that in fact I had gone to Africa, it was like waking up for the first time since August. Suddenly I was surrounded by a group of loud, cheerful, fantastic characters, the like of whom I had never met before, and every day flew by in a blur of baking sun and blue skies. Then I was in Achiase with My Roomie, and this was the slap in the face I had needed for a very long time. No running water, dodgy electricity, goats in the hallway, monster spiders in the bathroom, dust everywhere- this was like nothing I'd ever done before, nothing I could have ever expected or imagined. It was absolutely perfect. Every day I was pursuing happiness, and every day I got that little bit closer, and life started to look better and better. I was amazed by the incredible sense of community in Achiase, the sense of peace and security throughout the entire town. I would feel safe walking at night, even when two enormous men with machetes came up suddenly behind me. I felt welcomed right from the beginning, even in the constant yells and catcalls took a little getting used to. Now I'll feel lonely walking down the street with no one shouting at me...

Above all else, I now believe fully in the redemptive power of children. Working at the school has been one of the best experiences of my entire life, and I wish I could bring all the kids back with me just to show all my family and friends how fantastic they are. I have gained so much respect for how eager to learn, happy, hardworking and enthusiastic they are, and I truly believe that with the right help they could, (and should) take over the world. I am going to miss them so very much when I get home, and I wish I could thank them properly for the difference they have made to my life. Whenever I have to struggle with something in the future, I'll think of them and they'll get me through it.

I must just say this- once I get back, the blog will live on. I'll keep writing right up until September, when it will officially be the end of my 'unexpected gap year'. There may not be so many entries, but this is not the final one, so please, keep following! Hearing all your feedback and comments has been so encouraging to me, and I hope you've enjoyed the experience of Ghana in my words.

If it were possible, I'd love to do a little jump back in time to last May. I'd stroll down the road to Skehans, the yellow pub on the corner, and go inside, and I would locate the blonde, morose, exhausted-looking girl staring into a half-pint of cider, panicking about work deadlines, looming A-levels, having to get up and do another wretched day in school the next morning. Give her a tap on the shoulder, and smile when she turns round and looks uncomprehendingly at this person in faded shorts and a scraggy vest, with hair in a messy bundle on top of her head, a shitload of jangly bracelets and an actual tan.

"Don't you worry," I'd say. "It's going to be a bit shit. I'm not gonna lie. But it will get so much better. I promise. Just you wait."

And I'd give her a hug and a big smile, and as she pushed me away, about to call for someone to throw this freaky stranger out of the pub, I'd nod at her drink.

"Incidentally, where you're going, the booze is so much cheaper than that."

Ayikoo, Ghana. Until next time.