Today I moved house, with the help of Sophie and Eliza. I packed my up my belongings and we took them for a ride on the bus, two buses in fact, to Richmond. I'm not sure how I feel about the fact that my whole life fits in a suitcase. Sometimes it seems like an exciting concept, sometimes not so much.
We carried my life up the stone stairs and through the big black door of number 23. It's a shy house, whose bricks are tickled by wisteria as it blows about gently in the wind. Mine's a small room, cosy and comfortable, on the very top level of the house.
A quaint cafe served me spinach and ricotta crepes for lunch, Sophie and Eliza filled their tummies with chicken salad. A train then took us to Brick Lane where we sourced vintage delights and warm bagels that cost no more than 25p, unless you wanted cream cheese.
Tyler, one of my new children, chased me down the stairs tonight to give me a goodnight kiss and a cuddle. That made me feel like one hundred dollars.
