This week I’ve been wondering how you know when it’s time to go. I’m not talking about whether you really should leave your friends’ house as the evening wears on and first they start yawning extravagantly and then one of them reappears in their pyjamas with their toothbrush in hand. I’m talking about when you should up sticks and go to live somewhere else when you really have no pressing reason to do so. Except a desire for change. This urge for novelty and adventure has landed the human race in a whole lot of trouble over the years. Many civilisations in past centuries would surely have been much happier if explorers hadn’t appeared out of the blue and “discovered” their homelands for the benefit of themselves and the people back home.
I think about my own family emigrating to Canada in the 1960s in search of a better and different life, and then slowly trickling back to England in the 80s and 90s when they decided that Canada wasn’t the answer after all. I’ve lived in other countries too, which can make a person feel a bit rootless (“citizens of nowhere” according to our former Prime Minister), but I can’t imagine that I’ll ever live abroad again. It’s probably an age thing, but we also have many ties of the family/friend/pet variety and those sticks aren’t as easily upped as they were when I was in my twenties.
I guess what I’m looking for is an adventure-lite. I won’t be moving to Oman or discovering any new lands, much to the indigenous populations’ relief. Far from it. In fact, the current plan is to move all the way from East Berkshire to West Berkshire. I’m not exactly Dervla Murphy riding her bike from Dublin to Delhi, am I? But, in my defence, after her many worldwide adventures Dervla always made her way back home to Lismore, County Waterford, where she has lived her whole life. At least I’ve managed to move 100 miles away from my place of birth.
There are many good reasons to move house, including financial considerations, problems with the location, not enough or too much space, or you may have dodgy neighbours with scary dogs. There are also many reasons to stay put, mostly to do with the sheer hassle of moving. Buying and selling a house is one of life’s most stressful events (up there with having a baby and getting married) and then there’s all the energy needed to start again somewhere new. You’ll no longer have your favourite plumber on speed dial and the new neighbours might be even dodgier with scarier dogs. It’s the unknown that we all fear. But it’s also what makes like exciting.
Friends of ours rented out their house in Henley whilst taking a sort of sabbatical year. They’d decided they’d missed out on one in their youth. Amongst other places, they went to live on the Isle of Man with the thought of retiring there (tax exile maybe?). However, they were fortunate to have a small terrace in Henley which was between tenants so soon hurried back to live there. They refurbished the terrace whilst occupying it. Adventure done, they then returned to their own house happy. Make up your own moral to that story.
Maybe Henley is more appealing than the Isle of Man?
Remember that when moving away from the area instead of putting up with visitors for the evening you will have weekend visitors instead. Just getting my invite in early.