Leaving Home
I’ve spent this evening trying to start packing. This may seem sudden to some of you as I know I haven’t previously mentioned it in my diary but I’m moving house tomorrow. Having never moved house before I’m finding it hard to know where to start with my packing and harder still to decide what gets culled. I have quite a lot of belongings that have no practical purpose but which I would like to keep due to sentimental attachment. I’m trying to decide whether I take such items with me to the new house, bin them or hide them in my parents’ loft while they’re not looking.
I am surprised however at how little I have actually managed to hoard in the last twenty-two years; a few hundred films, a hundred albums, about a hundred books, some games and consoles, some computers, a television and some clothes and that’s pretty much it. Having said that it still seems an impossible task to get it all packed in to boxes transported twenty miles down the road and then settled in to a new room.
The house I’m moving into is the one in which Chris, a colleague of mine, and his girlfriend Sam have been living in for nearly a year. It’s in the middle of nowhere in a place called Hartlip, the only downside is that it’s twice the journey to work each day and as yet there is no internet access there but such is the price of freedom.