Reconnecting

I hadn't realised it until now, but it’s probably no coincidence that my last post was about our trip to Norwich, a city I’ve loved since studying at UEA. I wrote, then, that coming home was a hard landing, a feeling that took me completely by surprise as it’s been such a privilege to live in this beautiful, remote spot on the very edge of the west Wales coast.

A trip to Skye at the end of October - Tom’s choice - with Ma, was a truly lovely holiday. The weather was kind, the colours of those breathtaking seascapes will stay with me, as will all the happy memories we made that week. And, because our small cottage had been so beautifully modernised and worked so well for the three of us, it was easy to imagine what it might be like to live somewhere different.

If travel doesn’t broaden the mind, it certainly brings a new perspective. By the end of the year, Tom and I had decided that it was time for a change, time to move closer to a town (we are neither of us, as they say, getting any younger!) and, above all, time to be closer to our loved ones. At the end of February, we put our lovely house on the market and waited for it to be snapped up…

Perhaps it’s because it’s been 12 years since our last move that I’ve forgotten how painful the process is! The constant cleaning, the build-up to a viewing, the viewers who appear oblivious to the sales particulars which clearly state, for example, that the garden is just under a third of an acre and reject it on the ground that the garden is too big (!). It’s hard not take it personally but I have to take a step back or I’ll make myself ill - indeed, the worst migraine I’ve had in years took me out for a whole day this week and has served as a reminder not to let it get to me. Life goes on, each day is precious and sooner or later someone will walk through the door and fall in love with this house just as we did.

Here's to the next adventure...