In February 2013 I left the comfy, familiar surroundings of the home I’d grown up in and my weekly £56 handouts from the JobCentre, to shack up with my 81 year old Grandma in the Midlands and get, a mere two years after graduating university; a job. I entered the world of the nine to five, I got a new car, I moved into a house share, I met new people. Compared to the previous nine months in which I’d been broke, living with my parents and unemployed, hanging out in the places I’d been when I was 17, I honestly thought I’d made it. My life had dramatically improved. Dramatically. I kinda thought I’d lucked out for the next few years. How wrong I was. As February 2014 drew to a close, I found myself with a new job; having made (what will hopefully be) a strategic career move, and living in yet another new town, this time with my boyfriend. Moving on, falling in love. Starting my life over. Again.
I know I’m a fickle creature, but it’s been circumstance that’s driven me to the rapid changes I’ve made since uni. A few months here, a few months there; I’ve been looking for a security, a stability that I think I might have found. For now at least, before I long for the coast, or the northern counties again. My home at the moment is a two bed terrace house just out of the town centre. It’s only a short walk to the train station, and we’re literally two minutes from the gym and the shops. Perfect kinda spot to hunker down for a little while and get comfy. Especially seeing as though I’ve got someone to get comfy with.
Now, well not now, maybe in a few weeks when I’ve started my new job; will be the time to find new projects, new people, new hobbies. I don’t know anyone in Stafford. All I do is go to the gym. Not that I’ll leave my old life behind; oh no, I’ll still go to my old BookClub, I’ll still do my course at the college forty minutes away, I’ll still visit my Grandma. But it’ll be worth seeing if this is a place I can have a life and not just live.