The Big Move - Packing

If I was a kid again, I'd be building
 castles and buses with all these boxes.
And some imagination.

I will try not to jinx this the process by announcing it, but we've "exchanged" today. The established steps to the property ladder seem so inefficient and convoluted, timing the removals with the legal paperwork and such like, but our house move is finally fully on track, with a week until my parents and I actually leave. One last week in my home of the past eighteen years. And its a shock to the system a bit. Even my Mum - spearheading the campaign and boldly putting in a lot of effort with estate agents and solicitors - says she feels a bit odd. We've been at 20 Morpeth Avenue for so long.

Yet I'm okay. As I explained previously, I used to be very frightened of moving house, but over the past few months, I've had the chance to tidy my affairs, utilize this house whilst I've still been here and come to terms with starting somewhere new. I'm ready. 

Clearing the living room last week,
one wonky lampshade at a time.

And there is so much stuff! We have boxes filling the dining room, blocking the fireplace and the living room is practically empty, save the two sofas and television, voices echoing off the blank walls whenever you speak. Presently, my room is the only section untouched, but that is going to change this weekend when I, at long last, take posters down from the wall, disconnect the endless electrical wires and pack away the majority of my possessions, if only for literally one week. 


So in an odd way it feels as if we're supposed to have left already, a sense of limbo, with rooms half-complete. I feel like the three of us are just hanging around waiting for something to happen after everyone else has gone, even though our day-to-day life won't essentially differ.


And then I've also got to find a way to move the Stargate...