The new place is starting to look a bit more like home now. We’re actually in it, for a start, properly. No more camping out and grabbing clothes from backpacks. We have a lovely new bed, complete with lovely new mattress and bedclothes (bedclothes that, for a touch of nostalgia, are patterned with an old map of southeast London. Our old flat is on the pillowcases). We have a comfy sofa that we will try (in vain) to convince the dogs they are not sharing with us. The TV is set up, the shelves are built and crammed with books. I can get up earlier than the rest of the household and not worry about waking up three other people (CM doesn’t count because experience has taught me that he can sleep through almost anything). There’s still some chaos, but now we can stop and breathe and look at the next step – which basically amounts to moving out again.
Oh god, the next step. Those steps never stop coming, huh? Continue reading
I’m still buzzing. I’ve forgotten how to slow down and not wake up in the morning with a ‘must do’ list already in place. The moving deadline that was egging us on last month is gone, and we are mostly settled, at least for the time being, with far less of a rush to sort out the remaining things. So there’s no need for me to be, in most areas of my life, demanding more (Why haven’t you gone to a poetry reading yet? Why haven’t you made an appointment with the bank? Go out! Join a gym! Move move move! ) But I can’t seem to stop doing it just yet.
Life’s been trundling on behind a headline roll so bad that it’s a shock, sometimes, to look social media and see people discussing silly, small things. Our internet broke down this morning, briefly, and it was a relief to escape the stream of world news for a while. (Yes, I could just turn my computer off and so forth, but what can I say – I’m an addict.)
Still, when the outside world is shut out and I can look at just what’s going on in my personal sphere, things are pretty good. Continue reading
About a month ago, I wrote here that quite a lot needed to change. I wrote that as a dare to myself, really. A threat or a promise. I was poised to do or not do something. I wanted to push myself off the cliff, and if that failed, pick up and try something new.
So I talked things over with CM and did the thing, and now I can tell you all that we will be leaving London and moving to Newcastle – or the general vicinity thereof – in the new year, because I got a new job. Continue reading