I love our new house.
I especially love the big dining table that we can finally put to use now restrictions are lifted – what a joy to have people round after years of being receivers (or very occasionally hosts with awkward arrangements, like once we literally had three people on a duet stool).
I love that the boys can have their own spaces now. It turns out they get on better when they have a place to which they can escape, and when their own clothes and treasures are in their own rooms so they’re not constantly disturbing each other. They also write more when they have space to write, and even their Lego play is more imaginative. It’s great that we can set out a game and then leave it out, because we’ve got room for it. A recent train track lasted a few days because, why not? they were still having fun with it.
When people come round (still an exciting novelty for this year) it’s great that we have places to put them without tripping over each other, like children playing in one room, and grown-ups drinking tea in another. I think we’re all happier that way. The seperation certainly helped to facilitate Bible study this week. :-D
This time last year, just before we moved, we had a long period of everything being in boxes, thanks to taking advantage of cough-related isolation to do some packing, plus the move then got delayed. There was a consequent very pleasing “a squash and a squeeze” type effect, where we were all frustrated and grumpy trying to squeeze around box mountains to get in the old living room, to suddenly being in the new place with some rooms which were actually empty (we had to buy more furniture) and instantly the boys were doing roly-polies all over the place and playing epic games of the floor is lava. (I feel like they've not stopped playing the floor is lava since.)
But the location, I wasn’t so sure about.
You see, I loved where we lived previously. Everything was literally within walking distance: church, my work, the boys’ school, our friends, the library, the doctors, parks and splash pad, even the swimming pools. Absolute top marks for convenience and community. It was unusual to visit the local shops without bumping into someone we knew. Being close to everything didn’t help with getting places on time, but it did mean we were fine without a car, often with my dragging the boys around behind me in a wagon or bike trailer.
I shouldn’t quite say I resisted leaving kicking and screaming, but I most certainly stated a preference for staying local, despite all the logical evidence of house prices which pointed to the fact that a decent-sized family home was achievable if we were willing to move out of town. I even wrote an actual poem about it:
Ode to my postcode
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways:
The perfect job, that lets me pick my days
At a school Ofsted gives superlative praise
Just hop on my bike, and I'm there.
Next, the lovely primary school so near
Which values the things we hold most dear,
Where we entrust our children without fear,
They receive the best of care.
Then there's Grace Church meeting at NCA,
With church family never too far away:
Older mums to advise, young mums to play,
Raucous weekly homegroup teas.
We're just walking down our road and then
There's greetings from students, neighbours, and friends
From SANG or school gates or church again -
So we feel like celebrities.
And there's four parks to play in after school,
And a choice of two learner swimming pools.
The library, doctors, and shops to fuel
All of our family's needs.
But too small table I won't miss you,
When next door TV's on we hear it too,
There's five us queuing to use one loo,
Small rooms with bursting drawers.
Though we love local life with just one car
With house prices here being as they are
It feels we've no choice but to look afar.
For five, I concede we want more.
So, CB4, to you I am thankful
But now we must attempt to untangle
Our lives from your fabric, and then to wrangle
Into new community.
We'll be back every day but it won't be the same,
The daily commute will seem such a shame.
Old friends in new towns will be reclaimed,
But, CB4, I do love thee!
A little cringey, but there you go. :-)
When we finally moved, I kind of mourned what we had lost through the change of location. It was a wrench, of course, there’s no denying it. No offence to our new village, but it’s just not the city where all our contacts were. It’s actually only a few minutes’ away, but it’s a car journey along a dual carriageway. We had to buy a second car. The school run feels completely different – no bikes and chatting, but a short drive where you have to leave early because you’re never quite sure what the traffic will do. Things have become about planning and not just popping.
But slowly, it’s been growing on me, and September was a surprise turning point.
Firstly, I love blackberry picking. This is an excellent spot for blackberries. We have eaten a whole lot of crumble recently.
More significantly, we live next to a field in which crops had been slowly growing which for months was picturesque but not that engaging, but September is apparently when all the fun begins and the fun vehicles come out – the combine harvester, the baler, the hay bale picker-upper (don’t know what that one’s called), the plough. Hours of entertainment - better than TV, according to my youngest. And a connection to the passing of the seasons, in a way which we didn’t appreciate in Cambridge. Middle son wants to be a farmer, and he agrees it’s been more farmer-y here.
We’ve always had plenty of birds visiting the new garden, mostly thanks to middle son getting a bird feeder for Christmas, but one September evening recently, we noticed bats swooping around the garden, and all went out in pyjamas to admire them.
Youngest son learned to ride a proper bike this summer, so now we can explore the village by bike, cycle to church, even just bike up and down the road in the evening to burn off energy before bed, which is a privilege that apparently comes with a little cul-de-sac in a quiet village.
Our after school routine has changed this academic year. No collecting extra children to walk back to our house, but instead we get home and climb in the tree house, to have drinks and snacks in there and talk about our days. I thought I liked the chaos, but maybe we’re actually happier with the calmness.
(Not our actual tree house, but ours is still pretty cool, and you get the idea.)
There’s a funny thing about being closer to nature (we have trees now, and field views, and more wildlife, although a disproportionate percentage of it we admire as roadkill on the school run). It makes me happy. It feels so hippy and zen to say it, but when I get back from work, to sit looking out over the brook at the field, it somehow changes me, quietens me. I didn’t quite expect it.
I knew it would be quieter; “It’s a quiet village.” people even say. But the first couple of nights here we lay in bed and listened to… almost nothing. Some owls hooting. And I realised we had become so accustomed to raised voices and passing traffic and the sound of next door’s TV, that I didn’t even notice them till they were gone, and replaced by… silence. I really like it.
During the 2020 lockdown, daily exercise was probably the highlight of my day (not the boys’; I had to drag them out protesting). We did various circuits around the warrens of residential streets near our old house. It was sometimes jolly to walk past the houses of people we knew and wave, but it wasn’t exactly the most picturesque. Now our walks take us along brooks, past cows, around lakes. It’s really different and really lovely.
On Christmas Day, we had the traditional after lunch walk, just to the local park, and the boys were calling, “Look – some people are walking their goats.” and I replied, “Don’t be silly – they’re dogs.” then got a bit closer and actually they really WERE goats. Funny. That wouldn’t have happened where we were before.
September has also meant we have officially joined a new church and home group, which is of course lovely and people are welcoming and encouraging. In the previous months, when the boys have had glum moments of, “I wish we just lived where we used to live.” and “I wish we were just staying at our old church.”, I’ve been telling them, “You’ll feel really different once we join a new church.” and I probably was talking to myself because, lo and behold, it’s true. We’ve only actually been there three weeks, and already there’s been an ice cream social evening, a barbecue, a ladies’ training evening, home group dinner for fourteen at our house, invitations round to people’s houses, there’s a church WhatsApp group, and next weekend we are looking forward to getting to know everyone at the away day. No doubt very soon this church will feel like our ‘home’ church, which will reconcile us and cement us further to the village.
In short: village life – I really like it; who knew? There were benefits to where we used to live, but I am enjoying discovering all the benefits of our new location too. I'd even RECOMMEND it to families who I know are facing the same space/location dilemma.
And if this exact same house came up in our budget but back where we used to live (bwahaha!), I’m not even sure I’d want to go back.
Besides, the boys have just realised they are villagers, like on Minecraft, and this makes them (and so me) weirdly happy.
More on village life here: https://sarahhadfi.wixsite.com/website/post/on-seasons-and-tips
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