So it’s been a bit quiet around here of late.

This is because I’ve been moving house. I’ve moved out of the house I used to own, which I thought I’d live in for a long time. Obviously, a couple of years is a long time if you’re the kind of renter who moves (or is forced to move) every couple of months, but you’re forgetting that I’m a) a curmudgeon and b) a hobbit so I’m pretty fond of my holes.

I like holes. Comfy holes. With all the things. Where I know where they are!

Ahem.

Anyway, I’m typing this on a laptop in a room full of boxes and cat toys. That’s pretty much the whole house: cat toys and boxes. But it’s a new house I’m renting – a shopfront and flat upstairs, ensuring that I finally have discovered a Pulp cliche.

There’s been a lot of work needed to make this place work – painting, repairs, and endless purchasing of the type that occurs when you move after a big life change. The move was absolutely brutal: I hate boxing up my stuff at the best of times, but this was a particularly difficult process. On the plus side, unpacking will be reasonably organised as I was relatively organised when I packed.

Relatively.

Jesus, I’m putting myself to sleep here. Suffice it to say that moving blows, and I’m hoping to only ever have to do it once more in my life, until I have to be moved in a box. Which, I must admit, has also been on my mind, because I’ve recently had a will made out because this is an adult thing that adults are supposed to do.

Yeah, normal service will resume soon. Everything’s almost in place, and soon the real computer – not this laptop surrogate – will be set up and I can get more into writing again, which I’ve been missing. The place here is surrounded by road noise – which sounds reassuringly like the ocean – but is kind of quiet at night. It’s light, and feels different to me.

I’m looking forward to meditative moments here. Here’s hoping.

(As an aside, this Aram Bajakian album is one of the greatest things I’ve heard of late. Go and buy it: you don’t need to wait.)