Moving, just keep moving
Well I don't know why to stay
No ties to bind me
No reasons to remainIt's 1.40am which is a bizarre time to be sat here blogging and watching 'Good Morning Vietnam'. This is the 2nd Robin Williams film I've had to prop my eyes open to watch this week after his sad and untimely departure from this here mortal coil. What wazzock of a TV scheduler came up with the dumb ass idea of showing some of his greatest films in 'tribute' at ridiculous hours of the day?! Thankfully my head is so full of shite at the minute that I can't sleep so here I am watching yet another classic.
We have been to see 3 rental properties in as many days this week. If I thought selling a house screwed with your sanity then I hadn't banked on how lousy this game leaves you feeling. House #1 - a new build 'cottage' (yeah right), looked fairly promising when we walked in. Decent sized living room and lovely new kitchen. The downsides we could see were the overlooked garden, tiny downstairs shower room and close proximity to a school. That list got a whole lot longer when we ventured upstairs to discover they'd crammed 2 bedrooms and a loo into the shallowest roof space known to man. Great if you wanted to sleep on a mattress tucked up one corner and never hang clothes up, but pretty shit if you had a normal bed, wardrobes and a desire to stand up straight. House #2 - a brand spanking new bungalow on a new development which if I'm honest, has always been my idea of a living hell. Sad to say then I fell in love with the place as soon as we walked in the door! Kitchen and bathroom to die for and 2 decent sized bedrooms 1 of which I'd already decided would have my writing desk and shelves of bears in it. The tiny lounge was a bit of a letdown and the white carpets were scaring me senseless. It shouldn't have come as such a gut wrenching surprise then that the landlady said no dogs under any circumstances. Gutted doesn't even go half way to summing up how I felt walking away from that. House #3 - not too far away, small but with a decent garden for a marauding Yorkie. Downsides, it's on a main road and we share access, oh and the expression on the landlords face when we had to explain some of our 'circumstances' to him. Now we have to wait to hear from him. Needless to say I'm not holding my breath. It's bad enough that there is so much competition for places when they become vacant without adding the fact that we have 2 dogs, OH's excess baggage and 6 months in which to find something suitable. My biggest worry (apart from us finding ourselves homeless) is that wherever we end up I will feel bloody lonely. More bloody lonely than I feel living in this village and that's with having the Craft Coven and W.I. It's that shit realisation that I left middle England 4 years ago because I hardly ever saw a soul. Those 'friends' who were always too busy back then, or too much of a letdown have now moved away (no great loss), or have a price on my head for stealing their husband (that's what happens when you're a shit wife). When we came back this morning, one of the 'stranger' residents of the village shouted out a greeting to me as she walked her dog up the lane. Am I going to get that living on a new estate? No. Or living on a main road? Probably not. Or in a quiet village miles away from here? Who knows. I feel like we may as well move 200 miles away. I probably have more chance of finding people to have coffee or to go shopping with on another planet than I do 10 miles away. People keep themselves tucked away in their own little cliques - you only have to look at the Yummy Mummy brigade around here to see that. I spend hours scouring Right Move and then more hours thinking about the places we've looked at and then too many hours lying awake worrying about leaving here. My brain needs a deep clean, all suggestions are welcome.
On the creative front I've crocheted 2 rows of my blanket - a pretty lousy effort, and bedazzled 3 pages of writing paper for penpal purposes. I have a full inbox but no mental energy to put pen to paper and reply. I really hope that 5 days in Belgium and as much chocolate and Limoncello as I can carry will put some va va voom back into my mental being and give me a much needed kick up the arse. I need to get back to writing with sarcasm and sharing my latest loony project, not feeling down in the dumps about stuff I have no control over.
|Where did everyone go?|