It’s weird. The past 12 months have seen so many frightening and monumental things – firsts, lasts, and who’d have thoughts – yet, now, less than a week from what I hope to be a finishing line and I’m scared.
Our new house is nearly finished and (everything crossed) there are no more obstacles, delays or other hindrances (yet) visible. (Whisper) This time next week we could be there. On the new sofa…
Was it the Great Escape, where huge escape tunnels were dug with teaspoons? It feels a bit like that now (without Steve McQueen, obvs) – the digging was so tiring and absorbing that there wasn’t much left for anything else. Now, though, I can smell the fresh air and I’ve started to fret about what the view is going to be like outside the tunnel. I hope it’s half as good as it looked on the plans.
So, it’s all about distraction. Boy Three and I took our daily march round the soggy streets of Penrith this evening. While nothing much beats a mountain ridge for a walk, a dusky stroll is pretty good. It’s a trot through paradise for a nosy person as the lights come on and before the curtains close. You should see the wallpaper and light fittings we spotted and judged tonight.