Officially a hobo



handed over my keys

The Flat is empty, we are currently residing at "no fixed abode" (backwards and forwards between our childhood homes), we are living out of bin bags (I ran out of boxes at drawer two of seven), my work clothes are hanging on the back of my office door (commuting in bikini and Uggs it is), I have no idea where I put my hair straighteners or my signature pink lippie (mmm, attractive times ahead),  I have to pack a washbag when I want a shower (for which I will have to queue), I have to learn a new commuting schedule (best make it short, seeing as I'll be in a bikini and Uggs), I have only one pair of heels to hand and the rest are in a box under a load of other boxes, in a giant box the other side of town (oh. my. actual. god)...

...

...

... sorry, I have to stop.

I would normally be Freaking. The. Hell. Out right now and possibly trying to get my hands on some strong sedatives, but thankfully I am (a) so exhausted I could barely sign my own name on the prescription (speaking of which, all of a sudden I'm supposed to be using my married name and I've never perfected the signature - arrrrgh)  and (b) I'm flying to California tomorrow for a two week road trip. Hur-flipping-rah for a holiday!!!!!!

just us

goodbye and goodnight

So on that note, please excuse the two week silence, let's chat when I'm home... well, not home, but, well, you know what I mean?

Ciao ciao

Our Last Night

Tonight will be the last night that I sleep in the flat that I have called home for the last six years.

It's been a tempestuous relationship and for the last five I've been itching to up-scale, spread our wings (and many, many belongings) in to a "proper house" i.e. a two-storey property with a driveway and a garden and a shed and a garage and, and and... I want to have room to host dinner parties and have friends over to play, laugh, dance and shriek late in to the night without worrying about our downstairs neighbours. I thought I hated our little flat, but it turns out that people are right when they say there's a fine line between love and hate, because deep down I think I loved it. A lot.

Now that it's time to say goodbye, I'm so sad. I'm a sentimental old mare anyway, but looking back at the times I've spent here I'm going to miss it. It was the first place I lived after leaving my childhood home. I was living with a boy. Properly co-habiting. I was going it alone... ish. I planned our wedding there. It's been my sanctuary and my prison – well maybe not that dramatic. Without wanting to sound all clichéd, unfortunately I am. Bear with me...We laughed there, we cried there, we screamed at each other there. I've felt lonely in there, I've felt surrounded in there. I've spent time there with friends, family, loved ones, my friends' children, a few waifs and strays and even pets. I've spent a lot of time talking about how I can't wait to leave, and get started on our first proper family "home"... without ever realising that our little flat was our first little family home, even when the family was just me, Mr G and my little hamster Cookie.

I'm excited about the next step of our journey together in to a proper "grown up" house, but for now, on my last night in what I shall always affectionately call "The Flat" I'm just going to reminisce a little bit

remember my nautical bedroom?

See you later, we'll miss you.

Thanks for the memories!

Your loving owners, Mr and Mrs G (nee Miss H)