Wednesday, 6 September 2017


I’m moving house

It’s always a traumatic time, especially when changing locations.

We will be leaving this:

It’s all to do with circumstances. Life changes and we have to accommodate those changes as best we can. Consequently, we will be moving from rural Wales to the bustle of South East England.

There are problems, the most obvious being cost. Houses are much more expensive there. Our new house will be half the size and twice the cost. Financially, it will be tough and that’s a worry, but it’s not the biggest worry.

My friends and relations promise me that our perfect house is out there. But we like quirky, odd, different, weird and fascinating. As yet, we’ve not found it, but neither have we sold and so that is not my biggest worry either.

I will sorely miss the dear friends who have shared the last dozen years with us, but we shall be returning to old friends who have stayed close in spirit even though we have been one hundred and fifty miles apart, and so that it not my biggest worry either.

What I spend my time fretting about is inspiration. I fear it will not come to me in the town like it does in the country. Right now, I am surrounded by fields, horses, sheep, wild life and endless, eternal, sublime tranquillity.


In the town I will hear traffic, people and all the turmoil that accompanies life. I won’t hear owls hooting at night nor sheep contentedly chewing by day. I won’t have the farmer passing my gate with a happy, ‘Hello,’ nor will I be eating newly laid eggs.

How will I survive?

The answer is, of course, I will. The contents of my writing room will be transported to a new, if smaller, room and icloud will still be holding all my stories and story ideas. But will I be happy? If I am not happy, will I be able to write? And if I am unable to write, what will become of me?

Supposing my muse stays among the trees and the lush green hills. Supposing I arrive at my new home bereft of the basic inspiration that makes getting up in the morning so exciting, that fills my waking hours with meaning and interest.

The summers here are idyllic, the winters magical. Will that enchantment desert me?


And so here I am sitting at my computer, catching glimpses of the foals playing opposite and listening to the wind rustling the leaves. The cows drowsily call to one another and my stomach churns with fear that the characters I have created out here will not come to me over there.

It’s silly to worry. After all, it can take years to sell a house. But we’ve been very happy here and I’ve been very creative and…

Big, deep sigh.

I’m moving house.


JO said...

I feel your pain - I've just moved, but my house hasn't sold and I've had to rent it our or lose a perfect flat.

Thoughts from my experience:

Don't underestimate the stress. This will take over your world and if you fight against that, it only makes it worse.

The fear of what might happen is worse than it actually happening. So waking up in the middle of the night wondering 'what if ...'; can feel crippling. But when things actually happen, you just get on with it, and it's not so bad.

And it is worth it. You've done the hardest thing - made the decision to go!

Lynne Benton said...

Good luck, Val - and I'm sure your muse won't desert you! You're too good a writer to stop writing, though you'll probably need to take a break for a while during the actual move. It is stressful, but Jo is right, the fear of what might happen is worse than it actually happening. Do hope it all goes well, for you and for your family. We shall look forward to hearing more in subsequent blogs...

Joan Lennon said...

Listen to Jo. But I'm absolutely sure your characters will be moving with you - even the ones who haven't been born yet!

Stroppy Author said...

And the city need not be as dead as you anticipate. I like on the edge of a city. The other night I was woken by the owl sitting on my roof. And then I hear the foxes calling to each other, and often the pheasants. The deer eat things in my garden and leave their footprints in snow. And I have eggs from my own chickens.

Penny Dolan said...

Oh, Val, I can understand your worry - especially seeing those photos of lovely places and reading your descriptions - but I'm sure that you'll be able to settle again, as well as finding some pleasant and peaceful places near your new home. It'll be helpful to know the geography of the area and a few friendly faces.

I live in the middle of a small town, looking out at other houses, but I also enjoy the convenience of nipping to the shops, cinema and even a still-existing library, and it is possible to drive out and/or walk in the countryside. Not the same as musing from your desk, I know, so good luck and good wishes.

I'm sure the muse will stay with you, ready for when you have time to listen again.

Sue Purkiss said...

Good luck, Val! Lovely wise words in all these comments...

Andrew Preston said...

Where I live, on the outskirts of a small rural town, I can step outside, and pick blackberries and elderberries. Wild mint grows at the doorstep. Within 100 yards, I can be on a former railway line, lined for miles with blackberries, rose hips, sloe berries.

I've never really come to terms with another facet of rural life.
The rather dire attitudes towards foreigners, and in general, the political landscape.

Best wishes to you Val, I'm sure you and I have encountered each other elsewhere on the internet.

Anyway, goodbye to life on the farm...

Val Tyler said...

Thank you very much for your lovely words.

I'm sorry I didn't reply before - its crazy here. We have an offer on our house, but the lady wasn't on the market when she made it. She is a very nice woman and we believe she is totally sincere, but we are still on the market until she sells. We don't know if we can put an offer on another house until she sells. That's of course if we can find another that works for us. The last weekend we were simply scouting areas. If we can afford it, we usually don't like it! Hey ho!

Your words are very encouraging. Thank you all from the bottom of my heart.