No place like home……finally

I have had my house for 6 years, to be precise it’ll be 6 years on 13th July. It was Friday the 13th when we moved, we being my ex-husband and myself. He didn’t want to move on Friday the 13th, he believed in bad omens. Less than 6 months later I had left him and was living in the house alone after he moved out (he couldn’t sustain the mortgage alone) maybe he was right about the bad omen, well for him anyway 😉

The house is old and needed work, we had it damp proofed and stripped wall paper and generally made a mess of the house before planning to redecorate. Needless to say this fell in my list of priorities as I  tried to maintain mortgage payments. Months went by and I ended up with two lodgers to help as I struggled to juggle my finances. I relegated myself to a cold spare bedroom off the main part of the house, in the winter it was truly miserable. Once my then boyfriend started staying more and more we decided to move the bedroom in the lounge (the lodgers didn’t have access anyway) so we could be warm and didn’t have so far to go to the bathroom in the night!

The garden is big and easily got out of control, I had a pond with fish inherited from the previous owner, my conscience pulling every time I found another dead one due to lack of care. I eventually gave the pond and it’s contents away, filling in the hole and sowing more grass. 

I never really connected with my house, it was bought with so much potential and expectation to be a family home and after I decided my marriage was over and I had to share the house with strangers all homeliness was lost along with my love for it. I was delighted when my boyfriend bought a house and I was able to move in with him and start over. I went with him to view the house and fell in love, I made no secret it was my favourite from all the others we viewed and I could totally see us spending our time creating a home together and in the years that followed it becoming a family home.

Again less than 6 months after moving in the relationship was over, this time not my choice. I was at the time working away and was renting a room near work so didn’t have to return to my house, I spent weekends with my Mum and whenever I did have to go to my house, to check on the tenants, collect post or for basic maintenance my heart sank every time I walked through the door. The house was becoming less desirable with each new tenant who came and went, dirt gathering, condition deteriorating.

Then with work looking rocky and me being put at risk of redundancy I started looking for new jobs, I decided it was time to come back home, to face the music and step up to the inevitable.

By the time I moved home all existing tenants had left and new one, a girl I knew anyway had moved in with her lovely dog Tyson. With finances a little more stable I didn’t need another person so I was already a bit brighter with this living arrangement. During May I (very much assisted by my Mum and Step dad) decorated the spare rooms ready for Alex to move in, I had new carpets, wallpapered and painted and I was genuinely surprised just how good it looked, I was motivated and spurred on. Since then I have painted the kitchen and stairs, also had new carpet on the stairs, which as you walk straight in from the front door to them it’s so lovely to welcome people in now. 

This weekend though I’ve surpassed all expectations I had. I have decorated the dining room. It was a dark dingy chocolate brown and I’ve transformed it into the retreat I wanted. I went out and spent a measly £50 to perk it up with accessories and I haven’t stopped grinning.


I am also now in a position to have a gardener who maintains the basics for me, but with the sun shining and my motivation at an all time low I have even done that myself today.


There is still plenty to do, my lounge and conservatory desperately need some TLC but already I am amazed at the transformation of the house, I mean my home. I’m falling in love with it all over again and I couldn’t be happier.

Effort… reap what you sow.


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