We moved house back in the middle of July so in some ways our previous place seems like a bit of a distant memory already, however I wanted to jot a few things down about our dear old flat for memory’s sake.
Six years is a long time to live somewhere. Here are a few of the things – good and bad – that I’ll remember the most…
The small but lovely kitchen where I experimented with food, learnt new skills and my love for cooking truly grew. And the oven which I always accidentally set to grill.
So many dinner parties. Especially the ones that started out so civilised and ended with dancing on sofas.
Parties with people crammed into small rooms. Brilliant nights spent with best friends. Countless bottles of wine.
The often overgrown garden belonging to the downstairs flat but sometimes shared. It may have been filled with Japanese knotweed and a hideous amount of earwigs but that didn’t stop epic BBQ birthday parties.
The girl who lived downstairs who became one of my best friends.
Games nights on cosy evenings.
The wind howling down the chimneys and rattling the old wooden window frames.
Hours spent together planning and crafting a wedding.
Christmas trees.
Watching foxes from our windows.
The 2nd neighbours we didn’t get on with who managed to have fun far too loudly, even at 2am on a Tuesday.
A mouldy, mouldy bathroom.
The view across the city.
Sitting on the bay window drinking trying to make the most of summer evenings.
The afternoon light that filled the living room.
That time I came home to pumpkins and a marriage proposal.
… Farewell Number 36 – you were pretty awesome.
Hello Number 14
Evening meals eaten in the garden. Washing hung out on the line. A lack of storage space that’ll take some getting used to. Vintage furniture purchases. New neighbourhood to discover. Spaces filling up with new plants. Magical morning light that makes patterns on the bedroom walls.
