Did I mention I’m moving in Janaury? Well… I have now. Moving house and city = daunted. Not least because I’ve been in this flat for four years and am not renowned for my receptiveness to change. Tried to start sorting through my stuff this weekend, alongside doing some work from home/eating too much pasta/listening to too much Daft Punk. Hope my neighbours like Digital Love as much as I do. From the little sorting-of-stuff I’ve done, it has quickly become clear that if there’s one non-negotiable, it’s the books and magazines. They’re coming with me however-many-trips-it-takes/come-rain-or-shine. Apologies to whoever is tasked with carrying them to the van (dad/brother). And although I have plucked up the courage to start the ‘sorting’ phase, to think I’ll never see the walls which have housed me for years or the view from my balcony again, makes me slightly breathless. I’m trying not to think about that reality at all. Instead I’m surrounding myself with the people who think the world of me, because, the way I see it, that’s the only way I’m going to land myself safely on the other side.