Home sweet home….

3

Research has shown that moving house is one of life’s most stressful events along
with divorce and bereavement.
Until now I have only moved house three times and each occasion has been extremely
painless so I was not sure what all the fuss was about.
My first experience of moving house was aged 10. I distinctly remember shedding
a few tears when the realisation dawned on me that I would be leaving behind my
beloved yellow bedroom and my snugly cabin bed – but once mum had reassured
me that Rattle Ted, Lulu Bunny and the rest of my cuddly toy menagerie were in fact
looking forward to their new home I was sold!
Moving day itself was filled with excitement and adventure – dad let me ride in the
furniture removal van, my younger cousin and I covered ourselves in bubble wrap and
everyone who came to help was filled with a buzz of excitement.
Once mum and dad had sorted my new bedroom there was no looking back – even
though my new bedroom was boring magnolia instead of vibrant yellow.
Nine years later I packed my suitcase (along with a number of glamorous black bin
bags) and left the nest for university in Chester. I don’t know if this actually counts as
moving house as it didn’t require much effort to move into a tiny box room in a run
down terrace house. In fact, to my parent’s shame, I did so after having one to many
farewell drinks with my home friends and spent the two-hour journey along the M62
with my head out of the window.
And to my mum’s dismay I still left rather a lot of my stuff in my old room and lo and
behold I returned home three years later. Most mums openly tell their friends about
their feelings of ‘empty nest syndrome’ and look forward to the Christmas holidays
when their little cherubs return with a months worth of washing. Mine however
literally put the flags out.
Two years later she waved me off again as I moved into my very own humble abode.
Although rented it was the first place I could call my own. Scattering cushions, adding
furniture and my own little nic-nacs filled me with joy.
This was my first taste of real independence and although moving day this time took
place during the coldest and snowiest December I have ever witnessed moving day
was once again a happy affair.
So thinking my next adventure would be just as joyous I began scouring the internet
for my next ‘Home Sweet Home’. Estate agent websites wonderful for nosey people
like me. Getting to snoop through someone’s house with just a few clicks of a button
is a brilliant pastime.
However sneaky tricks of the camera and selective shots means you can often be left
horrendously disappointed when you actually view the house in person.
I have found out the hard way that a ‘modest sized’ second bedroom actually means
you can touch both walls without fully extending your arms and ‘situated in a vibrant
area’ really means you are perched on top of a Chinese restaurant next to a booming
nightclub.
Two months into my search I am quickly realising why moving house is one of life’s
most stressful events!

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