Doesn’t seem nearly a year ago that I showed my mother pictures of a gatehouse lodge I had fallen in love with, an exquisite idyll out of the pages of a Beatrix Potter book, somewhere for simple elegant living. My mother sighed and said, ooh I’d like to live in that house, it would be perfect, so little work to keep it going. It seems I planted the seeds of the big move, from the tall elegant Georgian house by the edge of the gorge to a more manageable mews cottage round the corner.
It’s time for the old house to be experienced by new people. A process of editing and reinventing has been gone through, so much that once seemed important, but not anymore, now it’s nearly finished and they are ready to move. It’s enviable to be walking away from a life of accumulation, I wonder what would you choose to take if you walked away?