Emily or Beth?

When my latin teacher described me as a home body - at the tender age of 17 - I was a little offended. However, over the years, I have come to terms with my personality. What I occasionally wonder is whether I am the home-lover of this:

For there we loved, and where we love is home,
Home that our feet may leave, but not our hearts,

Oliver Wendell Holmes sp?

Or the home of Beth - the sister in Louisa May Alcott's Little Women - the family for which she would pine even in heaven:

"I never wanted to go away, and the hard part now is the leaving you all. I'm not afraid, but it seems as if I should be homesick for you even in heaven."

But for me, the ideal of the home loving, responsible person is not Beth but Emily:

Bagpuss, dear Bagpuss
Old fat furry cat-puss
Wake up and look at this thing that I bring
Wake up, be bright
Be golden and light
Bagpuss, Oh hear what I sing

The little girl who doesn't want to keep the things that she finds but would rather they were returned to their owners - people who might be reunited with them when they pass by the window in which her cat sits. I've had a number of Emily moments. I've handed in things - on a couple of occasions and in differnt towns in my life - and never quite recovered from discovering that the responsible copper advises you to be an anyonymous MOP in case the person who lost the item holds you responsible for what they do not recover or claim to have lost. At times, it is a sad world.