It’s day three and I am still pinching myself. Our new house is everything I could have dreamed it would be and more besides. The vision of Dr J and her vigilance in the local housing market has made off – as ever – and I sit writing this in our open plan kitchen/living area with the sun at my back, Paul Brady blurring out.
We have always lived in lovely places – from our tiny flat in Notting Hill to today but there is something about buying our perfect house in this most perfect of places that has me double-taking. As I have walked down our stairs I kept reminding myself that this is not a dream.
Now that the boxes are away – I have lifted and carried more stuff in the last few days that ever in my life – it reminds me why I don’t go to the gym (zzzzzzzz) – we are back to the normal fayre of a Saturday. I’m doing some pre-emptive cooking for tonight as I’m off to Anfield with one of my oldest mates and then playing golf tomorrow (with one of my newest mates) – great people both. Some horses have been backed. Cups of tea have been consumed by the bucket full and a Guinness or two will be taken in the course of the afternoon.
Not only is the house working out well but so too is my weekend. A weekend enjoying the pastimes that bring me pleasure; in the company of people who are important to me; with my wife and daughter (just back from seeing Frozen at the cinema) surrounding me with love. Life is good. Life is very, very good. I never forget it. I never take it for granted. It is one of the upsides of living with anxious – you appreciate what you have – partly for fear it will all go pear-shaped at any point!