Many people assumed, when they heard I was moving to Bath, that it involved having a job to go to or it was because of a man. Neither of these applied, it was a case of a powerful urge to move, knowing that my time in Tring was over and it was simply time to move on. Where to go was tricky for a little while - gut feel only told me it would be somewhere in the west country, so I kept mentally scouring Devon until one night I had a dream....
In the dream, I opened my front door and saw the city of Bath spread before me - woohoo! That was all the prompt I needed to begin making concrete plans - at last, a focus!
So, 3 months of fervent activity ensued, getting rid of as much 'stuff' as possible from the house my boys and I had shared over the previous 6 years. It was tough, but also somehow exhilarating as multiple trips to the charity shops and the tip opened up patches of wall and floor that hadn't seen light of day for sometime. Not long before my move, the boys moved out to their respective places and suddenly whole rooms were empty. Had I really managed to get rid of enough stuff to downsize to a 2 bed flat?
Moving days (one day to pack up in Tring and one to unload in Bath) arrived and loading up went like clockwork, even though my packing wasn't finished until that very morning (partly due to a late assignation with a hot date the night before!). Only one glitch marred what was a smooth day and that was that I'd forgotten to defrost the freezer - doh! But hey, what's a couple of hours delay in a lifetime of change? No big deal. I drove down to stay in Chippenham overnight before going to collect the keys to my new flat the next morning.
The day of my move into Bath arrived with more than a tinge of anticipation. The agent involved in the deal had swanned off to spend summer at his pad in France leaving his cold young cohort to hold the fort. 'Cold young cohorts', especially the estate agent variety, are renowned for using the bare minimum of their limited time upon the people who actually pay them, so communication was brief as I duly waited for him to trawl the archives of his computer to find the relevant paperwork. Eventually I was free to leave with the keys in my already tired hand, eager to set foot in the property I'd checked out a month earlier.
First thing I noticed was how much smaller the rooms were than I'd remembered - it was evident that memory does indeed play tricks when desire has a vested interest. The second thing I'd conveniently forgotten was that the flat was actually up 4 flights of stairs, not 2 as I'd thought (and told the removal company) - oops!. A quick check in the kitchen cupboards revealed that the landlady's pots and pans, still with the evidence of the previous occupants food attached to them, were still filling the very limited cupboard space. A phone call to agent and landlady set what I'd hoped would be wheels in motion but nothing happened. Instead, boxes very quickly filled up all the available working space in the narrow kitchen so it became a game of shuffle the boxes as we tried to empty some so we could in turn fill the empty boxes with the contents of the cupboards. The dirty cupboards then needed a clean - not a great start and added further to already elevated stress levels. Added to this, it became evident after a couple of hours unloading that I wouldn't be able to fit all of my furniture in the flat so I had to take the decision to let several pieces go without even knowing how or where. A solution was found and my dining table & chairs, rocking chair and a wardrobe all duly disappeared, never to be heard of again. I decided some things you just have to let go of in the face of the bigger picture.
As if all the stress and effort of the move wasn't enough, my stress levels were ready to go through the roof, and I just wanted everyone to go, I couldn't understand why the gang of removal men just seemed to hang around, making polite conversation and offering endless help. It took a while for it to dawn on me that they were actually waiting for a tip, despite what I'd already paid. I went downstairs and had a word with the foreman, offering him a note to buy the men a drink. My offer was declined, but one of the team watching from the window thought he had seen a tip given and I was later contacted by a colleague trying to settle an argument, as the issue had been a source of bickering amongst the men since my move. Why is nothing straight forward anymore?
Well, all of that was 6 weeks ago now and I'm happily settled here in Larkhall, Bath. I have to say - this village is rather lovely - all conveniences on hand, including a post office (a rarity these days) and a rather wonderful little french cafe that opened about the time I moved here (stroke of luck or what?). The sun has done a lot of shining and I've come to enjoy the walk into town and back, barely noticing the hills, uneven pavements and my 4 flights of stairs. Sometimes I go for a rekky on my bike to suss out the lie of the land - the car mainly gets used to take me dancing these days so petrol usage is halved.
The major difference since moving here has been having a man in my life again. Although its only weekends, it's been quite an adjustment for an independent woman like me to make and I've had more than a few of my previous ideas turned upside down - good job I can laugh at myself.
Despite some good referrals which are ongoing, work is slow at returning but I'm confident that October will bring a new batch of clients. In the meantime, I'll keep an eye out for other creative opportunities, or perhaps make some of my own. We shall see what transpires in the fullness of time, but one thing is for sure, there's plenty going on here so it won't be long before I glimpse a new avenue to explore.
