"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.