I was so scared for months – it’s been an elderly lady’s house and Anything Could Have Happened to prevent the sale going through – I was genuinely sick with worry. But we’re in.
It’s in the countryside, or a village of a few hundred households with an hourly bus, which is the countryside compared to where I’ve been all my life. At the end of the road there’s a field with a footpath beside it. Priscilla has widdled on the footpath, so it’s hers.
We have milk delivered in the mornings. In glass.
I’m cuddling the dog and watching other women’s stationery on YouTube right now but after that I write the novel here.