And breathe...

You may be wondering why I’ve titled my blog Moving Back, Moving On. Well, like a crap poker player or a poor side-show magician at a travelling fair, I’m about to reveal my hand.

In June 2007, my long-term partner and I split up. We were both approaching 40, so add in a bit of proper real-world stress and some family issues and ye olde fabled mid-life-crisis was close at hand. That the split came out of the blue to me is an understatement, although looking back I can see there were many things that hadn’t been quite right in our relationship for a while. We had also been carrying out the self-build renovation / conversion of a derelict 200 year old barn over the previous few years and found ourselves mentally and physically exhausted some way before the finishing touches were added. We’d moved into the barn and made the best of it as far as we could but...

Well, there are always ‘buts’ aren’t there?

Anyway, fast forward through that period... 18 months on, and what with the credit crunch and such we’ve been unable to sell the barn. I had moved out with the dog to my little house by the seaside and been very happy there, whist he’d remained back at the ranch. But we still continued to confront the insoluble unsellable on a daily basis and needed to find a way forward that acknowledged the fact that the wider economic (and personal) financial situation was unlikely to improve within the next couple of years. So...

To cut a very long story short, I have moved back to the barn today. We are not getting back together in any shape or form, but it is conceivably possible that – as there is enough space on site and we have managed to retain / develop a relationship as ‘friends’ – it could work out, living essentially as house mates under the same roof. It’s a trial period in the first instance. I’ve brought over some clothes, laptop and other essentials (the dog, for instance) and will be living and going to and from work from here over the next few weeks.

In the middle of February, I’m off to Egypt for a week’s holiday with my good friends David, Stephen and Liz. By the time I’ve completed the month’s trial and been away on another continent - diving and eating copious amounts for a week - I hope to have some idea of whether it’s going to work out for me here or not. If it does and has done, then I will make the move a permanent one. If not, I’ll either extend the trial period or move back to my little house by the seaside and call it quits.

It has been a bit weird today, of that there’s no doubt. I’ve felt angry at times, sad at others, and fair to middling in between. I’m trying hard to approach it with an open mind; after all, if it works out OK, it could provide a very practical and logical solution for the next 2 years or however long it takes us to complete the finishing touches here and for the credit crunch to blow itself out so that we can sell up. Practically and logically it all makes a lot of sense. Emotionally, well... that’s where the proof of the pudding is in the dwelling.

And so...

Well, just wish me luck please!