Slippers

I recently moved house. The flat that was a temporary residence and was located wonderfully on the shore. It was quite idyllic to wake up to the sound of the sea lapping on the rocks, or more recently crashing over the garden wall. It was a pretty squalid place really, in need of more than a lick of paint and a damn good clean, but either of those might have made it better. The roof leaked, the plumbing kept failing and the heating was non existent, so that in the winter, the internal temperature could be as low as 7°. The north wind laughed at the windows and came roaring in whenever it felt like it, so come january, enough was enough. Whatever I was waiting for wasn't ever going to happen so it became time to move on. (geographically anyway. The alternative is easier when you have somewhere to move on to.)

So now it's a bungalow along with the rest of the coffin dodging fraternity - the penultimate box. It's comfortable enough and has a greenhouse and garden. It's also on a bus route so I don't need to walk back from the pub. It's so bloody quiet here though - been here a month and not seen, let alone met, a neighbour.

I never imagined living this long I guess so it is not a situation that I'd ever envisaged. I guess this ends the dreams that I once had of doing wild things and sharing adventures. Soon I'll be wearing a cardigan and slippers. Then again, if I get to that state I hope someone will shoot me.