Seven years on

I’ve been fairly nomadic throughout my life – shortest period in a house was six weeks, longest was 12 years. It’s exactly 7 years since I moved into this house – it feels like home.

On the day we’d originally viewed it, we also viewed three other houses, all in the same price bracket. The other three were perfect, needed nothing doing to them, beautifully decorated. And tiny. This one was much bigger, four storeys, four big double bedrooms, two bathrooms, a double garage – but needed everything doing to it. So we bought it, and started doing everything.

I got the keys to the house on 13th May 2013 and booked the removal men for 29th. That gave me two weeks to get a few jobs done before the furniture arrived.

I hired a skip – and filled it in one afternoon. Being young and foolish, I’d only hired a midi skip – I would go on to hire five more skips, all maxi. As a friend of mine said – ‘Why did you buy that house, you’ve thrown most of it away…’

I lifted all the carpets. I booked the electrician to come and do a full re-wire. I started stripping wallpaper. I found a plumber and a plasterer.

And of course I had to arrange the house move as well. We’d been renting a place near Hebden Bridge, which is only about 15 miles from the new house here in Bingley.

The day before moving day, the guys came to do the packing. There was no way I could do it on my own. It costs slightly more for this service but can I humbly suggest that, if you have a granny, you sell her to cover the cost. It’s totally worth it, and she’ll understand.

They arrived at 9am – and it had to be seen to be believed. They moved through the house like a plague of locusts – one minute there was a perfectly normal room, the next there was nothing but cardboard boxes and dismantled furniture. It would have taken me weeks – they did it in three hours.

When they’d finished, they pointed out the selection of things they hadn’t packed up – a mug, a plate, a teaspoon, a fork, a knife, the kettle, the tea and coffee, a loo roll, the hoover. And then they were gone.

The next day they came back, put everything into the removal van, drove the 15 miles to the new house, and did it all in reverse. Well, everything apart from the unpacking…

I got them to put all the furniture in the middle of the rooms, rather than against the walls – I knew I was going to be stripping all the wallpaper, so not having to move the furniture out would be one less job for me to do.

In case you were wondering why I haven’t mentioned him, my husband was working abroad all this time. He’d gone out the day after we signed the contract at the end of March and wouldn’t be home until July.

But it wasn’t the first time I’d moved house without him – I had form. I’d done it a couple of times while we were living in Ireland, albeit they were rented properties. On one occasion I’d even had to tell him the address to come back to in the evening when he left for work in the morning…

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2 Comments Add yours

  1. SisterStay says:

    Mammoth effort! I bet you wish you hadn’t told him the address of this property now…


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