It's not necessarily something of note, but it occurs to me that this month marks four years since I moved into my flat in East London (I'd call it 'mine', but let's be honest and say that I have an amicablearrangement with the building society). A friend of mine cautioned me that as soon as I moved in, I'd “start to hemorrhage money”.
Kind of true, and I frequently find myself on the receiving end of bills or other charges which I wasn't expecting, but more often than not, I find myself sitting on my sofa, writing or reading or watching a film and sipping a cup of tea, and stopping for a moment; catching myself grinning at the way that the place feels like home, and how comfortable I am there.
And it seems like one of the best decisions I've ever made.
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