No place like home

I’ve been fretting about not blogging. And about not writing. I thought by being silent on the net everyone would think I’d been busy writing my next big thing…The truth is, I couldn’t find  my computer, we had no internet connection and, ok, we moved house.

I now know why people don’t move very often. It’s because you can’t find anything for weeks, even your new home. I had to remind myself which way to go home – but not home, as in the place I had lived for 13 years.

OK, so that doesn’t look like books. Is wire useful?

I’d also – naively – thought we didn’t have to unpack too much in our new temporary home. We had to unpack everything. Everything. Shoes were buried in boxes marked “books”. My CDs were muddled up with his CDs. That’s if we could find them. I fretted for days about where the mop was (I never mop but I can mope).

And then of course we were cut off from the world because it took weeks, WEEKS, well a perhaps a week, to get broadband up and running.

Still, it gave me time to sit back and enjoy the view from the kitchen window – which looks out onto the skyline of London. This is home for now.

Squint and you can see the Shard