So, the packing has started. I move out of my house at the weekend and I’ve been sorting my stuff out over the last few weeks. I’ve chucked no end of stuff out, sold some stuff and given a load of stuff to charity. So, all I’m left with is the things I want to keep. Which now need separating into things to go straight to my parents for storage and things that I am taking with me to a friend’s where I am staying for a couple of months before I go abroad.
Which sounds easy but it’s actually not. I don’t want to (and can’t) take all my stuff with me to Alex’s. So I have to really think about what I’m going to need for the next few months. The change in weather. The limited space I’ll have. The holidays and events I’m going to. The things I actually need (rather than what I think I need).
Some stuff is easy. So I started with that. Tonight was picture night. I took all my pictures down and packed them away. I was sad about this; my pictures are one of my favourite things in the house. They are all new (as in, bought in the last year and a bit) and all chosen just by me. They are all different, and might not go with anything else in my house but they all mean something. They are all personal to me and not just generic pictures that anyone can buy. I like this.
But now they are packed away the house feels bare. Which, well, it will do. I’m moving. I know that. Just goes to show it’s not just the house that makes this feel like home to me, it’s the things in it. And I’m not a material person at all. But I do like my little things that I have. Chosen by me. Put up by me.
So, until we meet again. Bye bye pictures.