I’m sat in my flat, and looking at my walls.
I still can’t believe I am where I am. In a flat that I am buying, and so lining my own pockets instead of those of others. The rapidity of the changes still hasn’t sunk in either. It’s still barely 15 weeks since I looked forlornly at the “For Sale” signs I would see littering my journey to work, and inwardly cry “if only”.
It all changed with a chance conversation, and after eight weeks of highs and lows I had my keys. Now I’ve been living in my walls for six weeks. There are blinds up at windows, soft carpets to walk on, a huge bath to soak in, and finally a massive sofa to curl up on.
Which is where I am right now. Tea in hand, tears on my cheeks. Happy tears.
It’s been a tumultuous and emotional three year journey to get here where I am.