There was something about the light in my kitchen just now that triggered a wave of contentment in me. My flat feels still, calm, and easy to be in.

It’s just before 8am and I’ve had an unsettled night’s sleep but I’ve got a day off so I feel no stress about this, safe in the knowledge that I’ve got the whole day to rest and catch up.

I’ve been in New York for the last week – it was a glorious trip and I enjoyed every second of it. We flew back into the UK late last night. It wasn’t an easy journey – travelling with a condition like Tourettes, which makes you stand out, can be profoundly wearing. However much I do it, and however lucky I feel to have opportunities to experience new places, I’m aware of all the looks and commotion my body generates. But last night I was back at the castle and tucked into my own bed by midnight and it’s nice to be home.

I’m still in bed, letting the morning creep in gently, enjoying how quiet and calm it feels. The view from the window is wonderfully mundane and familiar and the sky is an unbroken light grey. There are three trees silhouetted against it which, at first glance, look wintry stark but when I allow my gaze to settle on them properly I can see clusters of green, hinting at the leaves that will be coming soon.

“Trees, who painted your fingernails green?”
“Trees, are you reaching for the stars you can’t see?”
“Trees or optical illusions? Choose.”

In the week I’ve been away, the first roses of the year have bloomed in my garden, an explosion of soft yellow.

“Roses what are your thoughts on colour theory?”
“Roses that lead never falter”
“Roses, who said you could jump the fence?”

And my lamp-post is still there, standing meekly at the edge of the view. It’s almost completely camouflaged by some scaffolding behind it, but my tics know it’s there.

“Lamp-post, the roses are glowing more than you”
“Lamp-post, did you miss me more than dog piss?”
“Lamp-post, I love you more than my imaginary goat”

The scene may be ordinary and the garden shabby but I love every bit of my home, and right now I feel a deep sense of peace. As my tics chatter on to the world outside my window, I’m completely at ease.