I have been sitting under a duvet all day researching online conversations for a client.
There are tissues strewn across my bed and I have had to unpack my packed boxes in order to find one of the many tubes of First Defence that I always remember about slightly too late.
Welcome to Autumn.
It is six days until I move and six days until I go to Singapore to visit my brother. There is nothing like cramming a few momentous events into one week. It seems to have shot my body into overdrive and I wonder, as I write this, if that is designed to make me stop –
And think about what all this means.
I am scared that it won’t happen, in that way that you can’t imagine the things you haven’t done before and they therefore seem totally unreal. It is kind of embarrassing. I think I should be crazily excited or nervous –
Instead, I don’t want to think about it until it comes. Don’t want to be disappointed or tempt fate.
The mind is a funny thing. Or my mind is a funny thing.
A few days ago, I set up some Google Docs of all the things we need to do before we go. Jabs, dollars, addresses, presents. Cleaners for the old houses, cleaners for the new house, removal men, boxes, paint. I had felt like a passenger until that point, and there is something reassuring about taking control again.
I am not very good at moving. I tend to focus on the Goodbye rather than the Hello, to notice the things that I never got round to doing and forget all the many things that I have already done. I have liked living in SW6. It has suited me, the tree-lined avenues and our blue bricked flat and the five minute walk to the Thames. It is easy to overlook the District Line and the over-priced Coffee Shops and the slightly crazy neighbours when your vision gets skewed.
The mind is a funny thing.
Sometimes the excitement of what’s coming next prickles. Suddenly, I’ll realise that we’ll be a few Piccadilly line stops away from a favourite place, or imagine, for a second, what it will feel like to come back to a home that we always live in together. It is like butterflies in my stomach but quicker –
I would like to play with those feelings for a little bit longer but –
I talk about living in the present, frequently, but I wonder what the trick is to letting the future in.