All change

A year ago this month, I was in the process of moving into the cottage and slowly, imperceptibly, it has become 'home'. I suppose, simplistically, home is the place that you live but I think it takes a while for a place to start to *feel* like home.

This is my living room: painting by Rolf Harris, drawing by @artminx, chair from @delphdahling. There's the giraffe that I bought from Oxfam in 2001, the frame full of photos of my big girls when they were much smaller. You can see the open fire that kept me warm last winter and provided the perfect ambience to a good book and a glass of wine.

But it's time to move on. I need more bedrooms for the children instead of the single-room dormitory I have now and I want to move back into town to make it easier for the kids to visit and stay with me.

This week I looked at a cottage in the middle of Kirkby Lonsdale, just behind the market square, which looks as though it will be perfect. I'm excited about moving there but suddenly sad about moving away from the cottage; I've grown more attached to it, it has become more of a home, than I'd realised.