CAVAN CALLING/Steph Booth: I have finally made the emotional leap that means Ireland is my home, not just the place where I live.

I think there is a crucial difference between simply living somewhere and developing an emotional attachment to that space. I recently had an appointment in Manchester, at the cardiac unit where my pacemaker was fitted in March.

While in Manchester I thought it would be a good idea to start my Christmas shopping. In the history department in Waterstone's bookshop on Deansgate, I was suddenly overwhelmed by the desire to be home. It was then I understood Ireland is now that place. My Irish grandmother, Kathleen, always talked of going home and I feel I've now squared that particular circle. She would be very pleased.

I took our Springer spaniel, Millie, with me to England as she is currently on anti-inflammatory drugs. As I was promised by our local vet, the staff at UCD veterinary school are excellent and Millie is now a much happier dog. I was a little concerned Tony might forget to give Millie her medicine, which would not be helpful, but I was even more concerned if he did forget he would decide to make up for the missed dose by giving her a double shot next time. Definitely not a good idea.

I made the crossing with Irish Ferries. The kennels on the Jonathan Swift are like giant plastic cat boxes. After putting Millie into one of them I asked a man working on the car deck if he would mind making sure the door was securely locked. He said it was fine. I went upstairs to settle down for the voyage, but some instinct made me check again on Millie. As I came down the stairs I saw four men kneeling on the deck, looking into the kennel where I had left my dog. They were pleading with her. Millie had managed to bash down the door and escape. The poor men had chased her around the car deck before she finally dived back into the kennel and refused to come out. I soon had her installed in another kennel that was then turned to the wall to stop any further break-outs. I think she quite enjoyed being chased by sailors!

I bought Tony's Christmas present in Manchester. Since we have moved here, he has become really interested in the night sky. We have never before seen it in the awe-inspiring magnificence we do now. Something that puzzles me is why, in the absolute blackness lit only by the moon and stars, is the darkness not frightening? In the city where there is street lighting the night is much more scary. I suppose it must have something to do with learned anxieties. Anyhow, I thought a telescope would be a good present. I had no idea buying one would be quite so complicated, but I now know the difference between reflector and refractor telescopes. I was very pleased with myself and went to enormous lengths when I emptied the car on my return home not to let Tony discover his present.

A few days later, Tony and I were in Sligo and I noticed he seemed to be dawdling past a shop with telescopes in the window. I just knew he was thinking of buying me one for Christmas. I decided the way to handle this crisis was to tell him I didn't want a telescope. He was stunned, but I repeated I didn't want one. Tony is not gifted with much imagination when it comes to presents, but he really thought he had excelled himself.

We stood in the street while he pleaded with me to let him buy me a telescope. In the end I had to say I had bought one for him. He was devastated. The only way to pacify him was to suggest the telescope could be a joint present. This worked well until we went into a shop, Cross Sections, where there was a candle lamp I have coveted for several months. I thought it was a little expensive and I asked the woman in the shop whether it would be in the January sale. She very kindly offered to let me take it away immediately at half price.

Delighted, I turned to tell Tony, but he was standing there in a state of complete disbelief. He had been busy negotiating with another assistant to buy the lamp as a Christmas present for me and return later to collect it. I think I will probably be lucky to be given a box of chocolates for Christmas!

sbooth@irish-times.ie