Home is where the heart is….
It has been just two packed weeks of unpacking since moving South.
I must admit that I do not do change easily, and have found the coming together of a new job with a new company (I feel very much like the new boy in school); the move from Cheshire; a new house; the new experience of renting while trying to sell; commuting to London; driving to Heathrow to catch a plane to Paris; and traveling to Gatwick to fly to Malaga (I am on board the plane on my way to the company convention in Marbella as I write) all very disorientating and challenging.
C has been a rock throughout and has quite simply done everything. Including putting up with me….just about. So to be fair, the hardest thing that I have actually had to do so far is to cope with a couple of days without wifi (access to wifi should be a human right!); orientate myself around a new Waitrose; get to grips with a new oven (I’ve never had to consult manuals so much in my life); and, try to get my head around a new recycling regime, which requires the separation of food waste from plastics, tins and bottles and another bin for everything else.
The move itself was actually very efficient but, after fifteen years in our beautiful Cheshire home, it was really hard quite literally watching our life be packed and packaged and transported in boxes…..
Locking the door of an empty house was quite upsetting but, at least, I have begun to realise that a home is more than just the bricks and mortar, a view, and a location. It is all of those things and much more. It is the people and the memories shared in that place.
Home was meals shared around a welcoming table with family and friends. Croquet, marquees, parties, barbecues and drinks on the lawn. Holding C’s hand watching fireworks sparkle all around us at New Year.
It was the furball baby asleep under the oak tree; hares dancing on the lawn; the occasional mouse (and the one that I flattened in particular); the bats circling the courtyard and the couple that strayed indoors; and, the buzzards, owls and sparrow hawks patrolling the skies.
It was the Cheshire hunt and cows and sheep in the fields around – foot and mouth aside, when they all went on holiday….It was the special privilege of living in a house with a history, having being built as a boys’ prison housing murderers and absconders and locals just seeking an education or apprenticeship. It was a sense of community with an annual horse show, a village hall, and carol singers gathered in the hallway.
But these memories still exist in my mind, in photo albums and in my blog. Moreover, new memories such as these can still be made wherever C and I travel to.
And, I should also try to remember that Bradwall was also the place where I lost most of my hearing in one ear; where my eyesight faded; and my waistline expanded. Time moves too fast. So, carpe diem. I need to live more for the moment than for the snooze on the sofa!
And, I am very happy to report that the new house is really lovely although C does have a snagging list the length of my leg. We’ve managed to fit most of our stuff in so it feels homely, although the bathroom is quite small and the shower is a disappointment. And, the oven is smaller than the drawer I keep my smalls in….we may be eating out a lot! We are, however, still surrounded by boxes – mostly books, with no shelves for a home.
The neighbours are friendly (and quiet!) and the village is to die for – two fab pubs (one owned by the Stig!), the Dabbling Duck cafe cum deli, an ice cream shop, a Co-op and the church which appeared in Four Weddings and where Bridget Jones got married just two minutes walk from our front door. The surrounding area – the Surrey Hills – is lovely and we’ve already found two Waitroses, three Pizza Expresses, and a House of Frazer….phew, and relax. Who’d have thought the south would be so civilised?
Entry filed under: middleman.