It seems that I need to get something off my chest otherwise it will leak out into every single blog post I write.  We’ve been trying to move house since last Summer and it’s becoming tedious.  I’m “a get up and go kind of girl” so dancing on the same spot is boring.  Our current home still brings joy and if you’ve read some of my blog stories over the past five years you’ll know how much time we’ve invested in our little garden.  Me, out of enjoyment and Mr. Watt out of necessity when I meet a challenge too far.

I’m prone to turning out cupboards and clutter as you may know already and interestingly the habit is deep-rooted in the clutter itself.  My mum and dad both had parents who rescued everything “just in case”.  For mum and dad this presented a huge challenge when their respective parents (my grans and grandads) shuffled off.  And much of this stuff ended up in my brother’s loft in desperation.

In many ways, it was my mum who started the decluttering habit.  There were many conversations about needing less as age increased.  I remember encouraging my dad to discard old or rusty tools and stray screws or fixings from their garage when they moved to a new apartment.  At the time I said something like, “If you need more screws, there’s always Woolworth on the High Street”.  Then Woolworth’s disappeared and on a visit to hang a picture I asked my dad, “Where are the screws?” … he replied with a glint in his eye, “Well, they’re not in Woolworth’s”.

So, back to last Summer and the opportunity to buy a tiny little house just a few miles away with the tiniest yet appealing garden ever.  The attraction was the continued proximity to the south coast as well as the airport and a sensible road network.  A combination of countryside, villages and towns close by providing a sense of reality and calm at the same time.  (Oh dear, that sounds like the developer’s marketing pitch).  Just less to keep up and lower running costs increasing our chances of more holidays and travel.

A pity that we needed to market this house as the schools broke up for summer although we secured an offer in September.  Then the fun began.  There’s no sense in sharing the details, they’re too boring although let’s just say our potential buyers were unlucky with their buyers (yes, there were several).  Fast forward to mid-February and we have a new potential buyer (fingers crossed) and an extremely patient developer, but we’re bored with it all.

I began the process of making sure we’d fit into the tiny new house last July.  In fact, I wrote about it here and shared some of my triumphs.  But that was seven months ago, and the house is beginning to echo.  The wardrobe declutter was essential due to my shrinking body size.  I accepted that an accumulation of 20 years of HR project papers was ridiculous (of course it was all on my laptop).  We sold lights because the new house has one of those fancy lighting systems, chests of drawers because the fitted wardrobes in the new house are to die for.  Beginning to get the picture?

Personal experience suggests that there are lots of home seekers out there who don’t even know what happens next and in which order.  And many don’t really understand the need for speed.  I realise that some people simply don’t have any project management experience, although there’s always someone who’ll help.  I’m beginning to think that I could write a helpful guide to moving … or at least, trying to move.  I could even combine it with some helpful tips on organising your belongings, decluttering as you go and moving with less.  Maybe the lovely people at The Everyday Project Manager could help with a practical workshop, how about it, Jeremy Nicholls?

But for the rest of today I’m trying to forget moving dates and dramas.  I’m excited to read the newly published Caroline Quentin book, “Drawn to the Garden” [publisher Frances Lincoln, 15th February 2024].  It seems we share a passion for our gardens although Caroline’s is in the middle of Devon countryside and seems huge at 30+ acres.

Fancy a chat?  let’s talk