I’m fed up with this house. I don’t like the location, although I love the town. Our house is the first on an estate of just 23 houses. When we saw the house for the first time I thought the house would be perfect. That was a Sunday. We came back to look again, it was a Sunday. We moved in and were awoken early Monday morning by a mini earthquake-like tremor! Lorries and vans speeding by from 4.30am until late morning. Although we are oblivious to it now, three years on, I don’t think I would have set my heart on it in the first place if I’d have known that the road was so busy.
At the time we moved in, June 22nd 2004, I was pregnant with Spud, the lease on the house we were renting in Dublin was almost up and the houses here were selling fast. So, although we have made a tidy profit on this place, it’s by no means the house of my dreams.
We’ve never lived in the one place for longer than 5/6 years. In our ‘courting years’ as Assistant Managers in the hotel business, we were a week here, two months there, six weeks here, six months there… Gypsy blood? Probably. Tax Man chasing us?
Selling your house is so expensive, especially where stamp duty is concerned. But after a brief chat with Hubs today (and a few crocodile tears, don’t tell him I faked) I think, for the safety of the children, especially little Spud, the way forward for us all is to move.