We have been moving out ever since we first moved into this house. It was never meant to be forever and it wasn't love at first sight. It was a bridge. A stepping stone. A means to an end. An end that is still a little far off to see clearly.

We had a five-year-plan:
Buy house in our home-town.
Hang out for a while.
Move on to bigger/better things just outside our home-town...

We are now in year 6. The plan has gone a little awry.

Granted, year 5 of the original plan passed in a haze of babies and before that the economic slump had already happened and our house has de-valued rapidly and significantly. Thankfully, we are not in as bad a situation as a lot of people. Nevertheless I sometimes feel somewhat stuck and a little disappointed that I don't yet live in that lovely house in the almost-countryside, surrounded by green but within walking distance of a pretty little local shop or two. I would like for my girls to grow up in that house. Yes, that house would be very nice indeed.

It is comforting to know that we haven't actually found the above-described house and missed out on it. In fact,  that house probably doesn't even exist within our price-range... whatever that might be... and so I may at some stage have to come to terms with the fact that...gulp... I may not ever live in it... but for now I will dream...

Last weekend we travelled a winding road to visit my brother and his fiancée in their fantastic, newly-built home. Set in two acres of green with views over a lush valley and sheep running in the fields. It is idyllic and I'm so happy for them. You may think I could be a mite jealous... but no. The house is so much theirs I couldn't even imagine living there. It is home to them and not to me.

I don't need to be jealous anyway, because last week my girls reminded me how to appreciate what I have. They have found a new house. They have settled in and seem quite happy, despite a notable lack of wardrobe space.

It is a place to drink (imaginary) tea and put babies to bed. A little nook to snuggle up in, with books and cosy blankets.
A place to hide and peep, to create, to laugh and play.
A place of warmth and comfort and love. A place to hideaway from the rest of the world.
A home.


  1. I live in an apartment with no balcony and hope that one day when my babies arrive it will be homely but growing up in Dublin is sooo different to Milan! We are used to gardens front and back!!! I dream of what you dream too but no it is just that a dream! Your girls are getting so big hopefully see them soon!! Love you blog it makes me lovely! Gra C xxxxxx


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