During this time, I have changed employer twice, we tied the knot, and we moved home from Lewisham to Leichhardt to Morningside to Deception Bay to Hamilton.
View from the green sofa to the green of the front yard
For the last countless weeks we have been selling off and donating our chattels so that we can scale down our footprint from 116 m2 (on a block of 686 m2) to 85 m2 on the ninth floor of an apartment building among city lights.
Our two year retreat in the country is drawing to a close. An immersion in nature especially in being adopted by magpies have helped us to heal our hellish experience of life in a townhouse development.
Today our house goes to market with the first open inspection on 10 May 2025.
Coincidently, today, Saturday, 3 May 2025, Australia votes. Temporary polling stations across the country, emblazoned with party colours welcome some whilst worrying others. The reward of a Democracy Sausage, biscuit or cake afterwards turns the experience into an Aussie outing.
Here, it is against the law if you do not vote without a valid reason for being unable to do so. There is an admin fee of $20 to pay plus if you end up in court, a fine if convicted, and responsibility for the Australian Electoral Commission’s costs too.
I am both short and long sighted. My spectacles get in the way when shaving, so I have to get close to the mirror. The one over the sink is too far away, providing only an impression of my face.
For the last four and a half years a round ivory coloured flower relief mirror has hung on the ensuite bathroom wall. It was useful when shaving the right side of my face whilst I faced the window.
Every time I stand up in there, the view straight ahead is so embedded in my brain, I experience a shock that I do not see a reflection of my head, shoulders, upper torso; only a painted wall.
I do not know where the bubble wrapped beauty is hiding in our ever evolving ware house.
Moving house is an opportunity to lift some of the weight of possessions from our shoulders. I knew this before we started packing 70 crates, why wasn’t I more ruthless? We have so many items that we have trailed with us from place to place.
Today we gave away three pieces of furniture to a man that restores things, in the hope that they can find a new home.
My mother’s 1950s Singer treadle sewing machine that she could never use because of the callipers she wore. During my childhood it sat under the window of the spare bedroom in my grand parents house. Topped by a potted aspidistra; years of water damage led to the slow degradation of the veneer beneath. I inherited the sewing machine in 1972, using it to alter clothes and make soft furnishings.
Our bed for the first ten years together; an early 20th century slatted oak head and foot boards. It had lain in the loft wrapped in polythene for the last three years.
A momento of one of our happy excursions to the southern highlands of New South Wales. A small Art Deco side table with a diagonal grain veneer top.
This represents the start of releasing the pretty things from our nest; a new chapter.