Posted by Josie on Jan 31, 2010 in Uncategorized | 33 comments
I have lived in the same town now for 23 years.
We moved here in the winter, just before my fifth birthday. A winter of snow, I remember, thick and deep, much like this one. It’s funny really that I should start and end my time here with snow.
For we are moving.
The little terrace house that Ant and I have made our first home is rapidly getting a little tight around the waist, our collective bulge as a family of three leaving us all feeling uncomfortable and irritable and in need of stretchier accommodation. Something with room for an extra person perhaps, of the small and loud variety, and a washing machine that isn’t in a falling-down out-house in the garden, and a hall way and a drive way and kitchen that can fit more than one of you in at a time.
We could stay here, of course, in this town. Find something nearby, in a nicer neighbourhood (of which there are some), close to friends and family and everything we know. Ant would be happy with that, he likes it here.
But I just can’t do it. It seems I have reached absolute saturation point in my ability to appreciate or enjoy anything Stafford-y. Everything about here bores me: the same streets, the same views, the same endless lines of congested traffic. The small, isolated patches of green that seem fewer and farther between than I remember. There are more featureless housing estates and unfamiliar people than ever before. The high street is drowning in a sea of boarded up shops and windows, carbon-copy brand name stores. . We are stuck in a routine of going to the same places week in week out and Kai and I have read all the books in the library.
I need a change.
I REALLY need a change.
So yes, a move it is. To greener pastures. Or rather, not-quite-the-greener-pastures-we-would-like-as-turns-out-all-the-REALLY-nice places-cost-a-bomb-but-still-pretty-nice-which-will-have-to-do.
The schools are excellent. The estates we’re looking at back on to open fields with the beautiful expanse of forest, that breathes home to me and I’m not sure I could ever leave, only five minutes up the road. There is a beautiful new leisure centre and library a short bus drive away, and towns with good shops and rail links only a ten minute drive.
It’s not perfect. Not our DREAM town. But it’s close enough. And for potential first-time-buyers slowly realising the reality of house prices vs. what we can afford to borrow and maintain, we are realising that close enough may have to do.
We went yesterday. To look around the area, get a sense of where we would want to live. We will rent first, while we get a feel for the place and while my mums sell this house that they rent out to us. And we plan to move soon, by summer at the latest.
It’s not far away. 15 miles which means Ant won’t have to move jobs and we’re close enough to family to make popping over still easy. And yet it may as well be the other side of the world in terms of my experience of settling and living anywhere new.
I’m terrified.
Completely, genuinely, metaphorically sh*t-in-my-pants, scared.
What if I hate it? What if I don’t make any friends there and am horribly lonely? What if we buy a house that falls down around our ears and that leaves us even broker than we are already? What if I’m being horribly naive and swapping an ok-but-I’m-bored-of-it town for something much worse?
F*ck it.
I will never know if I never try.
Sometimes a change IS as good as a rest, and maybe new streets to pound and new places to go to are just what I need.
I am imagining taking a big, slow, breath in of that new air and that new life, and do you know what?
I think it feels good.
Josie Reply:
January 31st, 2010 at 4:32 pm
@Heather, I know, it must seem pathetic to you after moving around so much! But to me 15 miles feels like a very long way when I have used to having my best friend five minutes down the road my whole life
Stupid I know. Just something very new to me.
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