Well it has been a while since I wrote a blog. This I must assure you is not for want of trying but has been caused by a combination of settling into a new job, learning to drive, going on holiday, spending more time with the journalist (mentioned in previous blogs in the form of a press release), seeing friends and good old fashioned writers block (not ideal in my line of work).
Time literally has
flown and getting half hour to write about it all has proved near
impossible but, here I am. I'm back and with some shocking news.
Something has happened that I never thought would happen and always felt
I would try and avoid at all costs...... I'm moving in with a man.
know most people probably want to read about how it is all super
exciting, romantic and that I spend most of my days floating in a little
bubble dreaming of how beautiful I can make the house look and evenings
spent snuggled in front of an open fire, but the truth is I am crapping
myself, absolutely crapping myself.
Now when I say
that, I am not actually concerned about living with the aforementioned
journalist as we get on great and after 34 years avoiding living with
males in a romantic sense it is obvious I am not the type of woman who
throws herself willy nilly into these things so I must be quite sure
about this one.
But, there are a few things that scare me:
Leaving My Flat
love my flat. When I brought it nine years ago it was my way of
marking my independence. At the age of 25 I was incredibly proud of
myself at having the ability to buy myself a place without assistance
from anybody else (well except for all the furniture contributions which
were gratefully received), no deposits from the bank of mum and dad and
not having to buy with another person to get on the property ladder.
flat holds many memories good and bad, (mainly good but not to be
written about here, as many would incriminate myself and others in ways
we don't wish or need to be incriminated in now that we are sensible
adults with jobs/husbands/children etc). The place has seen some good
times, lots of laughs, some tears, all night conversations, as heard
plenty of putting the world to rights and witnessed many a glass of wine
being drunk. It has been home to blossoming romances, broken hearts
and much more. It may not be in an area I particularly want to live and
it may not be super stylish, but it's mine, all mine.
My Friends & Social Life
I am aware that my friends will still be my friends and I am only
moving an hour away but gone are the carefree after work drinks and
midweek dinners which I enjoy so much. Gone will be the days of
deciding that dinner on a Tuesday will be a good idea (as this will
require an hours commute from the office, followed by an hour home), not
something I fancy doing, especially in winter.
might sound crazy as I am going from a one bed-roomed flat to a four
bed-roomed house, but I don't mean physical space I mean my space. A lot
of people reading this may wonder what I mean as I am a very sociable
person, but I am sociable when I choose. Sometimes I like to go home
not answer the phone, not answer the door and just chill. I am now
going to be living with a journalist, a teenager and a dog not exactly
conducive to chilling out.
But, for all my doubts I
know my flat will still be there (albeit with somebody else living in it
-although I am trying not to dwell on that) and am having nine of my
girlie mates round for a leaving meal two days before I leave to ensure
that I leave on a high.
The friends thing, it might
actually mean we see each other more as we will have to plan more in
advance and having a bigger house means more of them can come and stay
The space thing I am having my own dressing
room and there are plenty of rooms so that will give me a bit of space
should I need it.
And finally for all my worries I know
I am making one of the best decisions I have ever made and am just
viewing it as the end of one phase and the start of a brilliant, new,