Conundrum

Bethom_1

To move or not to move, that is the question.

You see, we have outgrown our house.  It was just about big enough for the two of us. A tight squeeze for three of us, but if, as we want to, we are to have another little babba, well the poor little thing would have to live on the roof...

The house is a teeny tiny Victorian terraced  church cottage. It has a patch that passes as a front garden,  a titchy little porch that only exists so we don't get blown away when the front door opens straight into our dining room, a teeny little lounge, a long skinny kitchen, an outhouse that serves as a laundry room, a yard, but no garden, two good sized bedrooms and a huge bathroom. It is small but perfectly formed, and when we first came to view it it was our idea of miniature heaven..

But that was then. Now we scratch our heads and wonder what possessed us, knowing all the time that the reason we bought the house was that it sits on the edge of a lovely little town: that we thought it wise to sacrifice space for location, and that in our young brains, children were a long way off and fortune and riches just around the corner...

Now we look at friends who live in our home town and wonder if we did the right thing.  Five minutes away there are houses half the price and twice the size. Our finances wouldn't be stretched to the limit and our little boy would be able to play in his own garden. And yet....

See the thing is this: since living here we have been afflicted by what can only be called snobbishness. To move elsewhere would seem like going down the ladder, instead of up, and that surely can't be a good thing. But if we stay here (we can't afford to move within the same town- while the house price has risen dramatically, so has everybody elses, and the gap hasn't narrowed enough to make moving possible here) we have to make the kind of compromises which are beginning to make life difficult on a daily basis. I love my house, but I am realistic enough to agree with Mark that our day to day life would be more comfortable if we all had space to breathe in a house that didn't look untidy as soon as we put a cup down...

The thought of moving exhausts me: I love this house, this road, this little community. I want my little boy to go the school four doors up, and have my post delivered by Postman Steven. Always. I want someone to assure me that we can have this life in another house, another town because it's either that or move to France.

Estate agents, here we come.