The challenge of change

My aspect is ever-changing and always beautiful. I do love the endlessly shifting cloudscape. In the early morning the sun peeps over the treetops and some mornings the leaves glitter with raindrops. If I open my windows wide I can hear the bells from the Monastery at Evensong. At dusk I look across the river and through the darkening boughs see the lit-up windows of my faraway neighbours. Somehow knowing there are others out there makes me feel especially snug in my new home. I don’t lower the blinds until the outside is quite dark and then I retreat into my space for a cosy winter’s evening.

Once the paintings were hung the spaces felt like home. My new table was delivered along with eight elegant and supremely-comfortable dining chairs. So no more indoor picnics …

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Nothing prepares you for a move after nearly thirty years in one place. There is the physical dislocation, there is the need to declutter and then there is the emotional impact which has been considerable. I kept a bit of a diary during the process.

‘As I write this I am three days away and the house is starting to fill with boxes. Various bits of furniture have gone to new homes, ditto pictures and heavy gardening tools. Last night’s dinner was eaten on my lap, as my dining table has left! And after a massive effort dismantling electronics and packing clothing and the last of my books, my daughter Lisa, her partner Marco and I enjoyed an alfresco lunch having cleared a small space amongst the packed outdoor paraphernalia’.

And now I am ensconced in my new space with huge sky and gum trees and bird calls.

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