Endings and beginnings
I have had a recurring nightmare for a couple of weeks now. It involves coming back to our house after leaving it free for our Estate Agent to show around potential buyers, and finding everything still impeccably immaculate, EXCEPT for an ENORMOUS pair of maternity knickers slap bang in the middle of the floor.
There is actually nothing too dream-like or implausible about this nightmare. We have had several viewings a day for ten days. I have been almost OCD in my cleaning up; “Oh, Ramona? You want a TOY, you say? Like to play with? Ah. Okay. Here is a tractor. Have fun.” *5 minutes later* “Right, er, you finished with that?” *Tidies away*
AND Ramona loves to drape my underwear around her cute self. She will appear with my giant pants on her head, bras hung over her neck. She could easily have diligently found and placed a pair in perfect view, ready to greet any potential buyers.
Muddy cuddles for Ramona during Tim’s game of rugby
However. It didn’t happen. And you know what? We got an offer and our house is off the market!! WOOHOOO. Good bye, Big-Knickers-in-Public-View-Dream.
I am thrilled that it could all be wrapped up before the womb-baby makes an appearance in April, with a moving out date of late July. We will miss our home hugely, we have made every single nook and cranny our own. And we love Camberwell. It’s people, cafes, parks, and especially the weekly car boot sale. (Just LOOK at this retro French bottle I got last week for FIFTY PEE!!!)
The ducks! The snow!
We will be pretty forlorn to finally close our freshly painted door on this place.
And then, I had my last day at work last week. I took up my first role with Oxfam almost six years ago, would you believe it, quickly finding myself enveloped in a kind crowd of kindred, hopeful spirits. It was a quiet farewell, thriftily sneaking some scrummy posh M and S cakes into the pub and then out for Dim Sum. Gone are my days of channelling Whitney in seedy Soho karaoke bars. (Jokes, those days will never be over, just on pause while this womb-baby battles with my achey pelvis, too-stretchy ligaments and weary brain!)
Gosh, you know, I could write a book called What Not to Say Outloud. At the start of my last team meeting someone asked “Are you sad to be leaving?” – in response I blurted out “Noooo, not at all.” I had to quickly backtrack as it isn’t that I am HAPPY to be off, it is just that, despite LOVING my job utterly, I feel ready, completely ready, for this next stage.