It's been a while since I last posted which I apologise for but I've a good excuse.
I moved house!
There are times when I can procrastinate over small or even trivial decisions that may or may not make difference to my life, but when it comes to making big decisions I am fairly brutal and they are often quick and instantaneous.
Giving up a career, taking time to travel, moving house away from my city and my friends. Yup lets do it, go, go, go!
As the title suggests, I had been the owner and resident (minus 1 year) of my flat in Edinburgh for a substantial amount of time and when I started to think about that I was beginning to find it quite depressing. The history of me and the flat goes back to when I was a child bride :-). Oh the hopes and dreams! Well maybe not, but it didn't stay a marital home for too long and soon the flat became my home. Some may say that this was an ominous beginning but hey you got to live somewhere and it wasn't the flats fault I married a twat.
Anyway we grew together and decorated quite a few times in those 7350 days. The TV programme Changing Rooms had much to answer to in a few of those years. Suffice to say there were quite a few ups and downs at number 42.
History is history though and it was time to move on and make some new memories. For many years I didn't know where I would actually want to move to. The only thing I could afford within Edinburgh would be smaller than I had already and even I am not old enough to downsize just yet. East and West lothian I've never really fancied for various reasons. So where, that was the big question.
Having taken up mountain biking a year or so ago and making frequent trips down to Glentress and the Innerleithen trails, I started to think about living in either Peebles or Inners. After research I decided that Innerleithen would be a good bet. It is a busy little town with lots of local amenities, walking and biking trails and actually not too far from Burgh either. Could I have found my Location, Location, Location?
That was it decision made, and so 12 weeks of madness began.
The sign went up and I was on the market, so to speak!
Preparing for my first weekend of viewing was taken up with much frantic cleaning and tidying up of all the things they tell you to hide to create space etc. No one came. Oh well next week. I think it was the 3rd weekend before anyone showed, just one lady, but she seemed to like it. I was giving my "this flat is great, area is great, neighbours are great" speech and had my fingers crossed that my sales pitch was working. It must have as she came back the next day with her sister for a second look.
Short story of the next sequence goes something like this; offer in, offer accepted, offer reduced due to her solicitors incompetence, I asked for cheeky in-between price, accepted, woop woop.
In the midst of these few days my downstairs neighbour complained my balcony was letting water seep through to his living room ceiling. Crap timing to say the least, 20 years and relatively few neighbour dramas. To say I was unamused was putting it mildly. Something else to fix before I leave.
Now I had to find somewhere to buy, luckily I had been trawling the net and had made pro and con lists for various houses. I made an appointment to see the one I thought had the best potential as my new life partner and low and behold it was love at first sight. Boom. Cheeky offer in, offer refused, reasonable offer in, offer accepted. Boom Boom.
To cut short the whole very stressful event, there were varying degrees of nonsense from all parties building warrants etc but eventually it all came together and the day before my moving date my solicitor phoned with the news that "missives were concluded". Those are by far the sweetest 3 words anyone has ever said to me in a very long time and I think I gave out a squeal of delight and maybe danced around a little. Nobody was looking!
Emptying my loft took about 5 weekends and endless trips to the dump.
Tiles removed from balcony. I had them replaced obviously.
My spare room or box room as it came to be known.
Game on. OMG I'm actually moving.
And so it was on August 8th 2014, 7350 days after I moved in, I packed my goods and shackles and departed for the countryside.
I was beyond excited.
It is a strange phenomenon that we, or at least I, spend hours reading reviews etc about the latest gadget, trainer, bike etc that i will spend my hard earned cash on, but when it comes to spending thousands, 2 look rounds and Bobs your Uncle you've bought a house.
Thankfully my new house has lived up to my expectations so far. The interior is slightly more "50 Shades of Beige" than I would like but I already have the colour charts at the ready for a more primary colour makeover.
One of my new views. A good weather window.
View towards Caddon Bank, bike trails R US.
A gift from my favourite wee boys.
View from top of hill of doom.
Mmm that's not good.
Ah yeah, it be broken then.
However, it has not all been smooth sailing since moving in to my new abode. In my keenness to get out and explore the new trails and paths, 4 days after moving in, I fell coming down a hill whilst out for a run and broke my wrist. I couldn't believe it, not only have I never broken a bone before I was actually in the midst of telling myself "now be careful as these rocks will be slippy" when Bam, my feet disappeared from under me. I landed at first on my backside, thankful my keys in my back pocket protected my fall. Not! Then as if that wasn't painful enough I then flipped sideways and went face first into the hillside and rocks. I smacked my chin and put my tooth through my lip, but my left hand took most of the force.
I got up in that, did anyone see me fall manner, and gave myself a check over. Blood, yes. Limbs broken, no. Anyone around, no. Ok good to go. I jogged slowly back down the hill wiping my lip as I went. Eventually I stopped to check my hand as it was throbbing and saw that it was not quite the shape it should be. Oopsy. Thankfully I found a fiver on the way up the hill, so went to the Scotmid to buy the obligatory frozen peas, only cost £1, still 4 quid up, hoorah.
After a few phone calls to my Mum and various friends, I iced my hand then went to bed. Another long story short I had to go to the hospital and they told me I had a fracture on my radius and put me in a stookie.
This may not sound like a funny story but it really is. My two very good friends and running companions have also fallen whilst out running recently. Beth was the first, badly bruised ribs and a smashed watch amongst her injuries. Heather was second, she fell and got stitches in her chin and messed up her hands and knees. I am hopefully the 3rd and last of this tripping up disease that seems to have befallen us all.
To make matters funnier, it was Heather that drove me to the A&E, she was still fairly heavily bandaged from her injuries. To say we looked like a "right pair" is a bit of an understatement.
The downside of injuring myself does mean that all the events i have been training for and were upcoming have all and to be abandoned. There is always next year.
I have a garden though.
One handed art work to tell people I've moved.
Phew can still hold a glass.
I have an apple tree.
The pointy hill is where I fell.
I have since done a couple of exploratory walks and found some great routes for when I can actually run again.
Top of Pirn Hill.
All things considered I love my new house and look forward to new and exciting times ahead. I even have a new coffee machine, so you can get a decent cuppa if you are passing my door.
All photos by Caroline Harvey