Following the granting of probate, along with the prospective sale of our parents home of 32 years in the pipeline, yours truly will soon embark on a journey of seeking alternative living accommodation.
House moves can the most capricious and stress inducing of bed-fellows; however, I’ll board the good ship SS Realtor with an open mind and optimism; despite a heavy heart. This the residence mum and dad purchased on returned to their Yorkshire roots shortly after I’d fled their then Gateshead nest in the late 1980’s. A venue I’ll shortly leave with many happy familial memories over one score and twelve summers in my possession.
It isn’t my boyhood abode, however these walls have witnessed many scenes painted indelibly within the ‘happy recollections’ section of my adult life canvas. Subsequently, in some ways it’ll be a wrench to depart these hallowed walls and chambers.
In others, though, the triggers of living here provide too many episodes of melancholy for my liking. Constant visions of my late parents furniture, ornaments, photos and trinkets augmenting the sadness within this fifty-something orphan. Hopefully, starting afresh in my own home will ease these multiple instances of stark reflection.
To be clear, there’s been absolutely no pressure from my siblings (who along with me now own the property) to remove my posterior from their (part) property post haste. However, for a few reasons, it’s best for all parties I go as soon as physically possible. I’ve no inkling of where the next chapter of my life sojourn will take me. However, with taking early retirement last year I’m not tied to any one place geographically, which is a boon.
My thoughts on where to live next change from day to day. At reveille this morning, I concluded securing a six month tenure in a property on Yorkshire’s east coast maybe an amenable way to whittle away the hours. Admittedly, a rather unexpected appearance in the ‘Prospective Next House Move’ in-tray, but the more I thought about it the more appealing the notion played out.
Me concluding (for today, anyhow) spending April-September on the North Sea’s fringe would be an ideal location to while away summer 2022. Watching the waves ebbing and flowing upon a beach affording me time to ponder my next move in this ever changing chess game called life.
As I daydreamed, I pictured myself sitting for hours with laptop and sketch book inspired by sights of sand, sea, flotsam and jetsam. The plot line a wealth of creative epiphanies, flooding my neurological corridors with the vigour of a North Sea storm hammering a long suffering cliffside.
GJ Strachan utilising his time creatively as the capriciously tempered seaway on the horizon imparts serenity deep into his soul….. That being said, if the weather is as overly tepid as a normal east coast summer, my hands will be so cold I wouldn’t be able to type or even hold a bloody pencil.
Continuing with the earlier chess metaphor, akin to involvement in those meetings of strategic minds, I want to study each move and nuance carefully while treading tentatively forward looking for a new permanent abode. Yours truly wishing to avoid hasty moves which’ll later come bite him in the ass.
As the adage says ‘Act in haste, repent at leisure’. I don’t want to rush into a long-term house move until I’m as sure as possible it ticks all satisfactory boxes…… Although, if I’m honest, I do realise my desire for one of the bedrooms to have an integral lap dancing club and snooker room may need to be shelved!
Six months loafing around Filey or Whitby over spring and summer does sound appealing. However, if I continue with my habitual ‘change by the day’ decision making process, tomorrow I’ll probably decide becoming a deck chair attendant on the Oslo-Bergen ferry, or a German shepherd is a far better life strategy.
Footnote – And yes, before you say it, I mean a German who tends sheep, not the furry long snouted dog….. Although, saying that, I am very hairy and have a long snout, so best not rule that role out completely just yet!