Chapter One, Day One.

(Yesterday doesn't count really because it was so sad, and it was raining all day, and we were moving boxes and lights and chests, and the carpet man was still here, and I nearly broke my wrists carrying the sofa in, and everything was in boxes and I had no bed, and there was no food, and I couldn't find a spoon to stir my tea with, and you just couldn't see the floor for stuff.)

But this morning I woke up and the sun was shining, and the sky was giddy blue and I could hear Harry singing in bed and I knew everything should be, could be, would be alright.

So now most things are out of boxes, and I do have a bed which isn't flat packed in a box, and we have lovely shelves with ten (storage solutions) boxes in them, and we have a kitchen which functions and a fridge which now fits the gap it was supposed to, and a sofa with cushions on and a table and chairs and a proper drawer full of cutlery. And alright it started to rain this afternoon, and of course there are still boxes of books everywhere (which appear to be breeding), and OK I haven't even begun to think about unpacking my clothes, which means clean knickers may be an issue tomorrow, and yes, the toy boxes fill me with fear everytime I walk past them, but still...I think we can now call this home.

This Is Now Home.

So I sit here and contemplate the mountain of things I still have to do, but for tonight at least I have ceased to do anything of use because just being here is so very interesting.

I mean, currently the dog and I are listening to an extremely noisy hedgehog gadding about outside. I know it is a hedgehog, because I am tall enough to shine the torch outside the window and I can see it. The dog, however, isn't and therefore can't. Instead he is doing that deep-throat continuous growling thing which translates from dog language as: 'I mean business you fucker, I am going to KILL you when I find out who you are, get out of my garden RIGHT NOW.'

Which is sweet, and terribly brave, but actually a completely false persona to present since he has spent the entire day being a bit scared of going into the garden, and instead has been following me everywhere I go, getting under my feet and looking generally panicked.

He's so unsure of what's going on, that when we returned from picking up my car and buying some basic food items like butter and Marmite, he was standing in the garden peering through the gate and was completely soaked. So either he had been standing there feeling completely abandoned since we left, or he had the ruse and cunning to hear us return, run into the garden, roll around in the grass and then put on the mournful expression at the gate deliberately to make us feel bad.

So.

If my phone wasn't so rubbish and was allowing me to send pictures I would post a picture of my front door key up here. It is, quite literally the length of my hand which is not ideal for back pocket carryage, but is sure to win in any 'my key is bigger than yours' pub competition.

And anyway. The point is, we are here.

And I just feel so...so calm now.

Which can only be a good thing.

Right?