It seems no time at all since I was
blogging that we'd bought a flat. Ah, the happy, bouncy fellow that I was back then...
Tomorrow, the Dr, the dim cat and I move out after a little over five years. It's the longest I've lived anywhere since moving out of my parents' place roughly half my life ago. It's the first place I've owned, and the first place that's really felt like my own home. There's a lot of good memories bound up in the place. We've had some very good parties, done all sorts of repairs and renovations to make it our own, and it's all a bit sad to be going.
But a sadness also hangs over the place where we thought we might have children and then spent months hiding when
that didn't work. So this move also means drawing a line under the fact that we can't have children of our own.
We're moving to a house - though it's not much bigger than the flat - where I'll have a sundial and shed. The plan is to get the place in order while we press on with our efforts to get approved for adoption. (I'm probably not going to go into all of that here.)
So. Five and a bit years ago we got our keys, and then the Dr and I and
Mr and Mrs Brown sat on the floor in our new, unfurnished living room and ate fish and chips from the place round the corner. Tonight I'll trudge home from work to pack the rest of the boxes and dismantle the computer and desk.
Then first thing tomorrow the van arrives to spirit our lives off to whatever happens next...