It's THE weekend. One bookmarked for ages as the time when we'll have our estate agent valuations in and the house needs to be ready to go on the market. Our handyman has spent many days fixing, painting and tidying up the walls, so now it's over to us to "stage" the house for the photo shoot next week. This means decluttering, which means getting rid of stuff.
It's amazing just how much stuff you manage to accumulate. I know that the amount of stuff in our house has grown exponentially since we had children, but even so, there still seems to be a lot of stuff that belongs to us as well. No matter how many clear outs, tip runs or charity shop bags we've generated in recent years, we still have an awful lot of things to get rid of before the big move.
It's a strange situation to be in as we're not only moving house, but moving country. If we were simply looking to find somewhere bigger in Leeds, we'd probably junk a couple of boxes of stuff, but take most of it with us in a van. However, we want a fresh start in America as well as avoiding paying exorbitant shipping fees for things that aren't all that nice or precious in the first place. It's a move that requires thought over the value of things we want to take, rather than the convenience of having it in our next home.
Getting rid of stuff appears to require two questions to be asked of each item: "Do I want to get rid of it?" and "How do I get rid of it?". There's lots of stuff that has an easy answer to the first question. All of our kitchen stuff (apart from a few curiosities and special mugs) has been with me since student days, so the answer is definitely yes. A lot of the furniture is either second hand when we first moved in or so big and bulky that it's not worth the shipping cost, so the answer again is yes. Things like our photo albums, my gran's bronze fireguard, my grandfather's typewriter obviously fall into the no category and we'll pack these away.
Some things, however, are much harder to answer. What about the dozens of books that line our bookshelves? Not all of them are classics, and we both now have kindles with more books loaded on than we could read in several lifetimes. Do I want to get rid of my books? Not really as they represent part of who I am, but do I want to take them with me, big and bulky as they are? Not really. A halfway house is to take those with meaning, or that can't be replaced and rely on us being more selective about the books we physically buy in our new house. It's an interesting thought in this transition time between paper and screen about whether it's worth holding onto books that you bought at the airport or second hand, but have sat on the shelf for so long that they're part of the make up of your house. We will always have books in our house (I still dream of a massive mahogany library with a ladder to get to the top shelves!) but maybe it's time to be choosy about which ones.
Artwork is also tricky, but less so. I'm proud to have a huge number of creative friends, and most of the artwork on the walls in our house has been created specifically for us. I want these items to come with, so we'll have to find a way of keeping the prints and pictures flat and safe so we can reframe them across the pond.
The process of getting rid of stuff is an interesting one. With the rise of the internet, there are so many different ways to divest yourself of things you don't need, from sites like ebay and gumtree to freecycle and facebook groups. We've also signed up for a baby nearly new sale, where you can get rid of loads of things and bring in a little extra cash too. However, with the time limit looming (less than 10 weeks to go!) and the prospect of wanting a tidy house for a quick sale, the issue becomes less about getting money for items that have value, and more about how to get things out quickly. Freecycle here is a godsend as everything that I've put on has always been collected with thanks inside a week. It's also an email based system so you can keep in touch with people who share odd details with you (we've found a Polish couple having a baby in April, so our plan with them is to give them everything when we leave!) which makes the process of getting rid of stuff easier.
The bigger items that we use day in and day out will be harder. Our bed and sofas for example will need to stay right up the end, and I'm not sure how we'll manage the timing of passing those on. It may be that we send the kids away with one of somewhere so the other can clear the house ready for the new owners. In any case, I've learned my lesson about trying to get money out of old furniture so it will all go for free to the next home.
All of this decluttering feels in part cathartic and in part like we're shedding a skin.
It's cathartic because it makes you examine what is important to you, and the answer comes back load and clear - not stuff. My mum read an article recently about decluttering, and it asked you to look at each of your possessions and ask if it sparked joy in your life (we did ask if my dad still sparked joy for her; fortunately the answer was yes!). If it doesn't, it's time to get rid of it. I feel that this is what we're doing, on a very quick and very big timescale.
It's cathartic because you find that it's ok to have stuff that sparks joy, or a memory, or a rueful smile, and the rest can go. It's cathartic because after watching a couple of friends and my family deal with the leftover stuff of someone who passed away, I like the fact that I've done all the awkward "what shall we do with this? Would he have wanted us to keep it? Why does he still have this in the attic?" sorting moments, so that when my time does come, Sophie and Jake will have much less stuff, and much more meaningful stuff, to sort through.
It feels like we're shedding a skin because we're going to turn up in America like true immigrants, with a suitcase of money and all of our worldly possessions (at least those that spark joy) on our back. Our new house won't feel much like this one at all in the way that it looks, but we will slowly start to accumulate a new skin and it will start to feel like home (or home-home) before we know it.
Friday 29 January 2016
Thursday 21 January 2016
Home
What makes home home? It's a question I've been thinking about for a few days now, churning it over with my wife and parents as something interesting to consider as we're planning on moving home to New Hampshire in 2 months time. As I sit here in the chaos of the redecoration and fix up of our current home, it makes me wonder what it is that makes this place home.
The thought process first started last week when I took the bus to work instead of driving. There's no direct route, so I had to go into Leeds down the Otley Road, which always feels like time travel back through my university days. The bus then goes into town (which we visit far less regularly now that we have kids) and I know where everything is, or at least the important things, like Fuji Hiro and North Bar. Everything is automatically familiar which definitely qualifies Leeds as home, and has done for a considerable number of years. I came here in 2001 and never left, spending almost half of my entire life in this city. It feels strange that I will leave it behind, and I know that part of my brain will retain all my mental maps and shortcuts forever.
Leeds is also home because it's where my urban family live. Despite a slow migration to London, Bristol, the Wirral and further flung locations, these friends have been our support network for as long as I've been in Leeds and have been there through our triumphs and struggles, the start of our family and the final decision to make the move. I couldn't have asked or wished for a better group of people around me and it will be (aka already is) heartbreaking to think that they won't be as immediately accessible as they are now. I'll leave that concept for another post (and because it'll make me sad if I continue on that train of though), but suffice to say that home is where your support network is.
Home is also where you live, but I guess that depends on the affection you have for the house. Leeds is home, and I will miss the city terribly. My friends are home, and I will miss them terribly. Our house is our home, but I won't miss it (apart from the enormous kitchen, and our super comfy bed). A few people have asked whether I'll be sad to sell our first house as a married couple and where Jake and Sophie grew up, but to be honest, we've outgrown it, both physically and mentally. The knowledge of what we can buy in New Hampshire combined with having four people in a relatively small house means that whilst the house is where we live, I won't be sad not to call it home.
Other people I've talked to have the notion that home is where your loved ones are. My mum in particular defines home as wherever my dad is (how sweet after 42 years of marriage!) and that makes sense to me as it lines up with my feelings about my friends and my own family. I'll always feel safe, comfortable, loved and wanted when I'm surrounded by my wife and kids, and it doesn't really matter where in the world we are when we're together. It feels odd, though, calling a group of people home, but I guess that home can be more of a notion than a place. It may just be that wherever my little family is where home feels like.
England, Leeds, our friends, my family - all of these places I call home now. My wife use home interchangeably to mean New Hampshire and Leeds (and strangely I can tell the difference between the two when she's talking!) and I wonder if I will get to the same point. I highly doubt that if all of our friends currently in Leeds were to leave that we'd come back to visit the city and my old haunts regularly, but I do know that I've set aside money to rent a big house somewhere in the UK each summer to get our friends and family together in one place. That won't be home in a permanent sense, but the feeling of belonging will make it so.
It will be interesting to see when, perhaps if but more likely when, New Hampshire feels like home and when I start to call it home.
The thought process first started last week when I took the bus to work instead of driving. There's no direct route, so I had to go into Leeds down the Otley Road, which always feels like time travel back through my university days. The bus then goes into town (which we visit far less regularly now that we have kids) and I know where everything is, or at least the important things, like Fuji Hiro and North Bar. Everything is automatically familiar which definitely qualifies Leeds as home, and has done for a considerable number of years. I came here in 2001 and never left, spending almost half of my entire life in this city. It feels strange that I will leave it behind, and I know that part of my brain will retain all my mental maps and shortcuts forever.
Leeds is also home because it's where my urban family live. Despite a slow migration to London, Bristol, the Wirral and further flung locations, these friends have been our support network for as long as I've been in Leeds and have been there through our triumphs and struggles, the start of our family and the final decision to make the move. I couldn't have asked or wished for a better group of people around me and it will be (aka already is) heartbreaking to think that they won't be as immediately accessible as they are now. I'll leave that concept for another post (and because it'll make me sad if I continue on that train of though), but suffice to say that home is where your support network is.
Home is also where you live, but I guess that depends on the affection you have for the house. Leeds is home, and I will miss the city terribly. My friends are home, and I will miss them terribly. Our house is our home, but I won't miss it (apart from the enormous kitchen, and our super comfy bed). A few people have asked whether I'll be sad to sell our first house as a married couple and where Jake and Sophie grew up, but to be honest, we've outgrown it, both physically and mentally. The knowledge of what we can buy in New Hampshire combined with having four people in a relatively small house means that whilst the house is where we live, I won't be sad not to call it home.
Other people I've talked to have the notion that home is where your loved ones are. My mum in particular defines home as wherever my dad is (how sweet after 42 years of marriage!) and that makes sense to me as it lines up with my feelings about my friends and my own family. I'll always feel safe, comfortable, loved and wanted when I'm surrounded by my wife and kids, and it doesn't really matter where in the world we are when we're together. It feels odd, though, calling a group of people home, but I guess that home can be more of a notion than a place. It may just be that wherever my little family is where home feels like.
England, Leeds, our friends, my family - all of these places I call home now. My wife use home interchangeably to mean New Hampshire and Leeds (and strangely I can tell the difference between the two when she's talking!) and I wonder if I will get to the same point. I highly doubt that if all of our friends currently in Leeds were to leave that we'd come back to visit the city and my old haunts regularly, but I do know that I've set aside money to rent a big house somewhere in the UK each summer to get our friends and family together in one place. That won't be home in a permanent sense, but the feeling of belonging will make it so.
It will be interesting to see when, perhaps if but more likely when, New Hampshire feels like home and when I start to call it home.
Thursday 7 January 2016
Lasts and goodbyes
I've always found it hard to say goodbye to people, even if I know I'll see them in a week or two. My wife has taken to giving me an extra 15 minutes before we need to leave somewhere as she knows I'll mess around before having to take my leave.
This habit will become even harder to break over the next few months, as we enter the time of "lasts" and goodbyes. There are some things that I know will be the last time it happens (or at least the last time for the forseeable future) and we can actively plan for them. For example, over the Christmas holidays we went to see Sheffield Wednesday play, and given that we're only likely to be back in the UK in the summer months, it's likely that we've done our last Hillsborough trip. Fortunately it was a good noisy game with a satisfying home win. There are others, like going to the Lake District with our good friends Matt and Vicky, where it's unlikely to be a last time given our communal love for the region, but it was the last time that we will have been able to easily pick up and go for a quick overnight visit when they're staying there. Then there will be some "lasts" that I won't realise were lasts until we're gone, or that we won't be able to make happen again. It's this last category that bothers me, but I guess that if I'm not consciously aware of it being a last, then I won't notice that it was one for a while.
There is then the horrible prospects of goodbyes with our friends and family here. We have given an open invitation to anyone and everyone we know to come and visit us out in the states, and we are fortunate to know enough people with the time and means to do so that we'll be able to share our new life with our English friends. However, we aren't planning on returning to the UK till summer 2017 at the earliest, so there will come a time for each person over the next few months when we will have to say goodbye, and I think my wife will need to give me more than an additional 15 minutes to do so. This was brought home last night by the visit of our good friend Nicola, who is moving to Australia next week for a couple of years. However, her timing (she's getting married in May of next year) combined with ours led to me to the very sad realisation that we might not see her for 2 or 3 years, by which point she'll be a Mrs, Jake will be 6 and in school and Sophie walking and talking and causing havoc. Who knows, we may even have a puppy by then. In any case, life will be very different then for all of us. Admittedly, we see Nicola infrequently as she moved down to London a number of years ago, but she always made the effort to come to visit when she came back to Yorkshire, so it will feel strange only having an online friendship with her for the months to come.
The world is becoming a smaller place with the prevalence of free video call software, and apps that allow you to send as many pictures, videos and voice messages as you want. For my other (more geeky) friends, there are also numerous ways to get our board game fixes online. However, it's not a replacement for the warmth of face to face friendship, the quick fire banter that you can't get with a time lag or the simple pleasure of catching up over a cup of strength 6 coffee.
That's why, when I know it's going to be a last with someone, I will always make the time and effort to make it worthwhile, to fill the memory banks up until the time comes when we can create new ones together.
This habit will become even harder to break over the next few months, as we enter the time of "lasts" and goodbyes. There are some things that I know will be the last time it happens (or at least the last time for the forseeable future) and we can actively plan for them. For example, over the Christmas holidays we went to see Sheffield Wednesday play, and given that we're only likely to be back in the UK in the summer months, it's likely that we've done our last Hillsborough trip. Fortunately it was a good noisy game with a satisfying home win. There are others, like going to the Lake District with our good friends Matt and Vicky, where it's unlikely to be a last time given our communal love for the region, but it was the last time that we will have been able to easily pick up and go for a quick overnight visit when they're staying there. Then there will be some "lasts" that I won't realise were lasts until we're gone, or that we won't be able to make happen again. It's this last category that bothers me, but I guess that if I'm not consciously aware of it being a last, then I won't notice that it was one for a while.
There is then the horrible prospects of goodbyes with our friends and family here. We have given an open invitation to anyone and everyone we know to come and visit us out in the states, and we are fortunate to know enough people with the time and means to do so that we'll be able to share our new life with our English friends. However, we aren't planning on returning to the UK till summer 2017 at the earliest, so there will come a time for each person over the next few months when we will have to say goodbye, and I think my wife will need to give me more than an additional 15 minutes to do so. This was brought home last night by the visit of our good friend Nicola, who is moving to Australia next week for a couple of years. However, her timing (she's getting married in May of next year) combined with ours led to me to the very sad realisation that we might not see her for 2 or 3 years, by which point she'll be a Mrs, Jake will be 6 and in school and Sophie walking and talking and causing havoc. Who knows, we may even have a puppy by then. In any case, life will be very different then for all of us. Admittedly, we see Nicola infrequently as she moved down to London a number of years ago, but she always made the effort to come to visit when she came back to Yorkshire, so it will feel strange only having an online friendship with her for the months to come.
The world is becoming a smaller place with the prevalence of free video call software, and apps that allow you to send as many pictures, videos and voice messages as you want. For my other (more geeky) friends, there are also numerous ways to get our board game fixes online. However, it's not a replacement for the warmth of face to face friendship, the quick fire banter that you can't get with a time lag or the simple pleasure of catching up over a cup of strength 6 coffee.
That's why, when I know it's going to be a last with someone, I will always make the time and effort to make it worthwhile, to fill the memory banks up until the time comes when we can create new ones together.
Monday 4 January 2016
The adventure starts here
It's official (sort of). We're going. We're finally going. After almost 10 years in the UK, our family is moving to America in April. I told my boss today and it's a relief to finally be able to discuss it with everyone.
I want to keep this blog over the next year or so to document my final months in the UK and my first experience of life Stateside. In it, I want to look at the pros and the cons of the move, as well as any surprises on either side of the Atlantic.
The first topic I want to cover is the question I get asked the most when I talk to people about the move: "What are you looking forward to about moving?" There are many reasons why I can't wait to get to the States, but here are my top 5:
1) The space
New Hampshire has roughly the same area as the whole of Yorkshire (population 5.5 million approx), but just over 1 million inhabitants. Given the scale and emptiness of the Yorkshire Dales, you can get a picture of the space available to us in America. House hunting regularly pulls up 3 or 4 bedroom houses with a couple of acres of land for the same price that we paid for our 2 bedroom terraced house. I'm also tired of living near people and being able to hear every part of our neighbour's life. Bring on a detached house in the woods with space for a vegetable patch, chickens and for the children to play.
2) The people
The big draw is my wife's family of course. She's quite the homebody, which makes the length of her stay over here all the more impressive. However, by people I also mean the general populace. I miss being greeted and smiled at in restaurants and the casual conversations and polite chitchat in just about any situation. I know that there will be rude folk out there, the same as over here, but there just seems to be less of them where we want to move to.
3) An outdoorsy lifestyle
Despite having grown up and lived in cities all my life, I find myself yearning to live in the wild with the ability to hike mountains, canoe down rivers and play on quiet beaches to my heart's content. There's plenty of scope in New Hampshire for this, including 42 mountains that are bigger than Scafell (England's highest peak) that I want to hike with the kids as they get older. The houses that we're looking at are surrounded by woods and wilderness, ideal for playing and exploring with our children.
4) Exploration and adventure
I've always wanted to live in a foreign country, and America represents a fantastic opportunity to set up a full life relatively easily. My wife laughs at my desire to simply get in my car and drive somewhere exotic ("I'm in Mexico, do you want milk on the way home?"), but I guess having lived on a small island, the idea that I could drive for thousands of miles without needing a passport or different money is exciting. There are enough famous landmarks across the States to last me many roadtrips, and the call of Central America being a few hours flight away instead of a long haul holiday will make for interesting family holidays in the years to come.
5) Living on holiday
I know this one will probably change over time. I'm aware that my only experience of New Hampshire so far has been whilst I'm on there on holiday and that the reality of having to have a job and financial responsibilities will soon kick in. However, imagine coming home from work and being able to go to your favourite places to eat, or getting to the weekend and hiking your favourite mountain or visiting your favourite town. This sounds like a good bargain and will make any job seem worthwhile.
There are of course things that I'm concerned about (gun laws and private health care to name but two), so it will be interesting to chart on here how much impact they have on the excitement of the adventure. However, the pros far outweigh the cons at the moment and I can't wait to go!
I want to keep this blog over the next year or so to document my final months in the UK and my first experience of life Stateside. In it, I want to look at the pros and the cons of the move, as well as any surprises on either side of the Atlantic.
The first topic I want to cover is the question I get asked the most when I talk to people about the move: "What are you looking forward to about moving?" There are many reasons why I can't wait to get to the States, but here are my top 5:
1) The space
New Hampshire has roughly the same area as the whole of Yorkshire (population 5.5 million approx), but just over 1 million inhabitants. Given the scale and emptiness of the Yorkshire Dales, you can get a picture of the space available to us in America. House hunting regularly pulls up 3 or 4 bedroom houses with a couple of acres of land for the same price that we paid for our 2 bedroom terraced house. I'm also tired of living near people and being able to hear every part of our neighbour's life. Bring on a detached house in the woods with space for a vegetable patch, chickens and for the children to play.
2) The people
The big draw is my wife's family of course. She's quite the homebody, which makes the length of her stay over here all the more impressive. However, by people I also mean the general populace. I miss being greeted and smiled at in restaurants and the casual conversations and polite chitchat in just about any situation. I know that there will be rude folk out there, the same as over here, but there just seems to be less of them where we want to move to.
3) An outdoorsy lifestyle
Despite having grown up and lived in cities all my life, I find myself yearning to live in the wild with the ability to hike mountains, canoe down rivers and play on quiet beaches to my heart's content. There's plenty of scope in New Hampshire for this, including 42 mountains that are bigger than Scafell (England's highest peak) that I want to hike with the kids as they get older. The houses that we're looking at are surrounded by woods and wilderness, ideal for playing and exploring with our children.
4) Exploration and adventure
I've always wanted to live in a foreign country, and America represents a fantastic opportunity to set up a full life relatively easily. My wife laughs at my desire to simply get in my car and drive somewhere exotic ("I'm in Mexico, do you want milk on the way home?"), but I guess having lived on a small island, the idea that I could drive for thousands of miles without needing a passport or different money is exciting. There are enough famous landmarks across the States to last me many roadtrips, and the call of Central America being a few hours flight away instead of a long haul holiday will make for interesting family holidays in the years to come.
5) Living on holiday
I know this one will probably change over time. I'm aware that my only experience of New Hampshire so far has been whilst I'm on there on holiday and that the reality of having to have a job and financial responsibilities will soon kick in. However, imagine coming home from work and being able to go to your favourite places to eat, or getting to the weekend and hiking your favourite mountain or visiting your favourite town. This sounds like a good bargain and will make any job seem worthwhile.
There are of course things that I'm concerned about (gun laws and private health care to name but two), so it will be interesting to chart on here how much impact they have on the excitement of the adventure. However, the pros far outweigh the cons at the moment and I can't wait to go!
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