I have a slightly jaundiced attitude when it comes to a view outside my window. I grew up in a flat that had the most amazing view across Hampstead Ponds so amazing in fact that it killed my father. He was so in love with the view that he forgot that he could go out into it and as a consequence died of atrophy ( and Vodka and fags). Now we find ourselves in a Flat in Muswell Hill that at the back at least over looks huge Horse Chestnut trees with not another house in sight. At the front the Plane trees that line the road have been pollarded to within an inch of their life. They look in the twilight like giant alien beasts that have fallen head long into the pavement, their limbs frozen in shock.
Its been ten years since we last moved home and it was the first time for our kids. They are treating the experience as sort of holiday, albeit one where they still have to go to school. For us it has been an exercise in logistics and adjustment – mainly due to the loss of two rooms. Amazingly we seem to have fitted all our stuff in remarkably well, sure we left practically all out books and quite a few boxes of other stuff, languishing in out loft, but the vast majority of what we own is now in our two bed flat. I am quite proud of that.