I moved house over the weekend. Well, 'house' is a bit strong. I moved from the flat I've shared for most of the last six months into a rented mid-terrace box. My new place is the sort of typical new house where space is at a premium, the walls are thin and from my bedroom window I can see dozens of identical houses...
But it's not the architectural blandness of my new dwelling that drags me down. And it's not living alone, rattling around like a pea in a drum, as I quite like my own company and can always find lots to do. No, what has made this move feel sour is that it means I've left the person I'd previously been sharing a flat with, and I miss her terribly. Home is where the heart is, so the old saying goes... in which case, this new house will never be my home, for my heart is with her.
But it's not the architectural blandness of my new dwelling that drags me down. And it's not living alone, rattling around like a pea in a drum, as I quite like my own company and can always find lots to do. No, what has made this move feel sour is that it means I've left the person I'd previously been sharing a flat with, and I miss her terribly. Home is where the heart is, so the old saying goes... in which case, this new house will never be my home, for my heart is with her.
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