Big decisions; Shall I live in Oxford or go back to London?
Yesterday was quite a big day for me. But not in a good way.
Let me give you a bit of a background to explain. Just over two years ago, I moved from London (after being there for 7 years) to live in the deepest, darkest Oxfordshire countryside. Talk about contrasts; it was the metaphorical equivalent of Sarah Palin opening a bear sanctuary. But even though I had physically moved to Oxford, I must admit that I had never properly committed to the place because the whole time, I still kept my much-loved house in London (just in case the stench of sheep, cow and chicken shit got too much you see).
Last week, everything changed. I finally decided that it was ridiculous to have two houses (it's just showing off), and that I needed to get rid of one.
So I 'ummmmmed' and I 'aaahhhhhed' .......... I thought about London, and its bright lights, busy streets, bars and restaurants and its vibrancy. Remembering life in the fast-lane properly tugged at my heartstrings. When I was in London, I used to have a demanding yet thrilling job in aerospace, but managed to balance it with relaxed weekends walking Naughty George beside the river (Thames) and leisurely lunches with chums.
And then I thought about Oxfordshire ...... waking up each morning to the sound of a rooster, and instead of bustling streets, I am surrounded by fields. The plethora of restaurants that I had to choose from in London, have been replaced by a single local pub. My lovely London Victorian town-house has been replaced by a wibbly wobbly cottage built in 1560 AD. And although my job is getting more demanding by the day, it is nowhere near as intense as it once was.
It was a tough decision by any stretch of the imagination.
So I pondered ......................................
And pondered ......................................
And then pondered some more ..............
But that wasn't enough, so I put some more time aside to ponder ..................
And then I finally decided ............................... (but man alive, was it tough?)
............................... that I was going to say 'goodbye' to my London house and continue forging a life in the Oxfordshire countryside.
But it made me really, really sad. I had lovingly renovated the London house from top to bottom. Izzy was born there (before me and her dad, Steve, split-up), and I had loved living there. Crikey, I was still carrying lots of happy memories of the place in my head.
Yesterday the Estate Agent came to take the photographs that he would use to try and sell my house. Which was exactly why it was a BIG day; it all became real.
And today, my London house officially appeared on the market. Click here to see my house for sale.
Because I am kinder than Mother Theresa (but with less wrinkles) I have included some photographs of my London house that the Estate Agent took:
And just in case you found yourself more interested in my house than you anticipated, here is a link where you can view 'virtual tours' of each room in my house (it will open in a separate window).
So all in all, it has been a bit of a roller-coaster of emotions. In fact, even now I feel really sad seeing my London house for sale. In fact I had tears in my eyes the whole time I wrote this post (even though I am not high-maintenance).
Tell me, please; what do you think? Have I made the right decision? I am wobbling at the moment (which is not like me at all).
Annie (Lady M) x
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