The October that Ran Away

I’ve wanted to write a post here for ages, and have missed a whole month due to… so, so much.

Life.

As you know, we’ve been working hard on the new house to get it in some kind of order before moving in. Weekends and evenings have been consumed by all the prep work that you think won’t take very long - but it does. Sanding and filling and clearing, then painting (how many coats???) plus measuring up, trying to clear the endless dust that new plaster generates… We’ve ached and become blistered and increasingly exhausted.

Jay’s toiled harder than any of us, regularly getting in from work, bolting down some food then heading out again from the rental house to the new one until late at night.

Packing our things (left until the last minute, of course). The garage alone was full of boxes and furniture which hadn’t been touched since we returned from Scotland. Lifting and lugging. Loading and unloading. Often in torrential rain.

Gradually moving everything into either the new house or a small storage unit. Putting aside bags for charity. Trying to shift things on Facebook (and having our time wasted repeatedly). We’ve lost important items and have yet to unearth them again. There’s still a lot we want to thin out and pass on.

The old bathroom suite was piled into the front garden for a good while, along with various other rubbish destined for the tip - including a fridge. People were walking past, tutting and shaking their heads. Of course, we hired a skip as soon as we were ready - and Jay spent one particularly stormy night after work filling it and getting soaked to the skin.

On top of all that, we’ve had to clean the old house meticulously, and - I spotted at the last minute - weed the garden because the tenancy agreement demanded it. But we didn’t want to give our landlord any excuse for keeping any of the deposit - espcially as relations had pretty much broken down. It was a soul-destroying process as we just wanted to concentrate on the new house, but it had to be done.

And we got all of our deposit back.

We’re still in a state of disarray but the condemned old conservatory is proving invaluable in terms of storage. It’s chaos, but contained chaos. And the living room and bedrooms are more or less finished; the kitchen’s hopefully being completely redone next year and the bathroom’s almost complete - the new flooring’s due to arrive any day.

Finally, we’re only living in (and paying for) the one house now.

And I can’t begin to tell you how much better it is to walk to school in the mornings than battle traffic on an eight mile round trip twice a day. That one thing alone has made such a positive difference to our lives. Granted, the cat likes to accompany us - noisily - but still. It’s a win.

I left my job in the gallery in September to focus on other things. Something had to give. The magazine sold so well that I had to get several print runs done, and I’m slowly building up a list of stockists.

Being a one-woman industry isn’t easy; I added ‘Entire IT Department’ to my job description this past week and it was incredibly stressful (the computer decided to grind to a halt and it meant I missed my print deadline by three days). But the latest issue’s now finished and due back from the printers early next week.

The sense of relief on Sunday - once I’d dealt with a potential last minute disaster we hadn’t noticed before signing it off ready for production - was huge.

So yesterday I decided to take a few hours off and go for a wander in the thick mists that have been blanketing us lately. I specifically wanted to get some photos of Ted Hughes’ old family home ‘The Beacon’ as it sold a little while ago, and will no doubt be transformed by the new owners. It’s in a sorry state and, perhaps because I know that his mother was reportedly a seasoned practitioner of witchcraft, there’s a slight creepiness to the place - especially when shrouded in swirling fog.

Hughes and Plath stayed with his parents at The Beacon in the 1950s, both writing. But there was a huge argument between Plath and her envious sister in law, and relations were strained. It must have been an isolating place back then. The Hughes women are certainly documented as having been slightly strange in their behaviour and attitudes.

I took a few photos through the windows as well as outside. It’s mouldy and neglected. Funnily enough, I always had my eye on the place (square houses always appeal to me) before becoming aware of its history. Now - I don’t think I’d enjoy living there, even after a renovation.

I kept going after that little stop-off and thoroughly enjoyed myself.

There’s something so otherworldly about this weather; even though the October festival of colour already seems like a distant memory, I quite like the dank, dripping nature of November. The last of the leaves are slowly floating down from the trees and the vegetation is gracefully collapsing back into the earth.

I saw so many cobwebs and bright berries punctuating the otherwise sepia hedgerows and gardens. Trees and buldings became ghosts of themselves as they loomed in the mist.

This meander somehow took almost three hours. But it was entirely necessary; like my computer, I needed a system update (shame it took Windows a LOT longer than it took me).

So, what else?

We’ve been enjoying our stove in the evenings. The living room in the last house was bitterly cold, and the prospect of enduring another winter there was quite literally a chilling one.

Halloween was quite the spectacular event here in the village. It was like those American films where everyone’s out in the streets, collecting sweets from the decorated houses. My nieces came across for it, and had a great time.

I’m still reading a very long biography of Sylvia Plath (from the library’s local collection) plus a few books of seasonal short stories.

As a gift to myself for surviving the house move, I went to the cinema to watch the Emily film. I got to sit alone with a mug of hot chocolate, enjoying the entire thing and not having to continually explain the plot to a certain small person.

Speaking of, he’s very happy with his new bedroom. But he isn’t giving us many clues regarding what he’d like for Christmas. Plenty of reminders to buy an advent calendar though…

Last month, we attended the open evening at the local high school. Joe’s due to start there next year and had been feeling a little bit trepidatious about it.

Fortunately he absolutely loved exploring all the different departments and left on a real positive note (the science demonstrations in particular got him very fired up)…

So that was a relief for everyone.

This week I’m going to be working on shop listings for when the magazine arrives from the printers, as well as looking at potential new stockists.

There are lots of little offshoots to this: a regular newsletter, options to subscribe etc.

And then thinking about the Spring issue.

It’s strange to be working a season ahead but that’s the nature of it I suppose. I’ve been immersed in all things winter and Christmas for the past few months and it’s important to keep pulling myself back to shore and dropping anchor in the present. It’s still autumn for a little while. Late autumn, but still autumn. We’ve moved on into the realms of fog and storms, long nights and dark mornings. Despite the unseasonally mild temperatures it’s very windy on the top of this hill. I’m regularly thankful that we still have Skye-proof coats and boots to pull on before leaving the house.

So, that’s all for this post.

Joe’s got a school friend over for tea at the minute. Tomorrow I might head over to the other valley, the Lancashire one, to run a few errands and have a catch up.

The forecast for the weekend isn’t great but at least we’re warm and dry in our little house, which is slowly but surely taking shape and becoming home.