Moving house

It's supposed to be a traumatic experience -- but I must confess I rather enjoyed it

I’ve had to move house many different times in my life. And while those who say that moving home is as traumatic as experiencing the loss of a loved one may have a point, I must admit that I rather enjoyed the process of uprooting myself and setting up again in an entirely different locale.

 

There is nothing quite like a house move to clarify your priorities for you. For me, whenever I have moved into a new space, the first thing I have done is set up the kitchen. I get all my appliances – coffee-maker, oven, microwave, electric kettle, fridge, etc. – up and running well before I move in. That’s because when I wake up for the first time in a new house, the one thing that makes it feel like home is a cup of coffee made exactly how I like it. And if I can’t cook myself a meal in a house, then it fails the ‘home-test’ as far as I am concerned.

 

Setting up the bedroom comes a distant second for me. I will happily camp out on a mattress on the floor for weeks on end, so long as I can roast some vegetables in the oven, or even just heat up last night’s leftovers in the microwave. And as for the living room, I take my time putting it right because sometimes I need a space to speak to me before I make any permanent design choices.

 

I realize that I am probably in the minority here. Most people would make sure that they could sleep in comfort in their bed (with their stuff piled on the bedside table) before they moved in. They would happily live off takeaway meals so long as their bedroom was set up to their specifications. But what can I say? That would be a deal breaker for me. As far as I am concerned, the kitchen is the heart of every home – and if it’s not functional, well then, neither is the home.

 

In the end, it all comes down to priorities. Some of my friends maintain that the first thing you should do when you move into a house is fix the in-house entertainment system. Make sure you have a wi-fi-connection that is strong enough to stream Netflix or Amazon Prime, get your TV hooked up and connected to the surround sound system. Then, once you’ve done your unpacking for the day, you can order in some food and chill in front of the television. That, they say, is the best way to make yourself feel at home in a new space.

 

I guess, when it comes to the crunch, it is a case of each to his or her own. But I think it gives us an insight into our own personalities to examine when we truly start to feel at home in a new house. Some people prioritize getting a good night’s sleep; others may want the public areas of the house (where they would entertain guests) to come together at first; some would be lost if they didn’t get their daily streaming fix every night; and then there are those like me, who only feel at home if they can rustle up a meal for themselves and their loved ones in their own kitchen.

 

Which of these categories do you fall into?

 

Homing in

Moving house may be the most stressful thing, but it does have its up-sides

You know what they say about moving house, don’t you? That it is one of the most stressful things in life, right next to divorce and losing a loved one. And as someone who spent the better part of her youth moving from one apartment to another, I have to agree that there is some truth to that. 

It’s not just the sheer physical inconvenience of packing up all your belongings and then unpacking them at the next stop (and mourning all those that get damaged in the process). It’s also the emotional upheaval of leaving behind a place where you made memories with your loved ones, where you laughed and cried, where you lived a part of your life, no matter how brief the period. Put all this together, and it is completely understandable why it is such a wrench to move out and move on, even if you are moving to a better address, a bigger house, or a nicer place.

Which is why I have great sympathy for those of you who are currently struggling with a move. I know what a pain it is to pack away your entire life in an endless series of cartons, with the knowledge that in a few days (or weeks) time you will have to undertake the same process in reverse. I know the sense of loss when you can’t wake up to the view that you got so used to. I know that strange, unsettled feeling when a house doesn’t quite feel like home, even though all your possessions are in it. I know the pain of trying to adjust to new neighbours all over again. Not to mention the agony involved in getting a new wifi connection, installing new phone lines, and cable for your TV. It’s enough to drive anyone bonkers.

So yes, I do agree that moving house is one of the stressful experiences in life. And once you’ve made yourself at home in the new place, it’s completely understandable to swear to yourself: never again! 

But don’t be so hasty. Hard as this is to believe when you are drowning in a sea of cartons, there are a few upsides to moving house. And sometimes, they make up – if only partially – for all the hassle involved in moving.

For starters, this is the best way to de-clutter. There’s nothing like the thought of packing up all your possessions to scare you into re-evaluating if you really need all this stuff. Those jeans that you haven’t worn since before you had the baby; the boots that have seen better days; the tat that people keep sending you for Diwali and Christmas; those dog-eared copies of cheap thrillers that you will never read again; the stack of DVDs that you’ve already watched; those pots and pans that have had the Teflon coating cooked right out of them; the list of the junk we all tend to accumulate goes on and on. 

The rule in these circumstances is: if in doubt, delete. As in, chuck out with the garbage. If you think that someone else can get some use out of some of this stuff, then make a bundle and cart it to a charity shop (or a lending library). But be ruthless now. Get rid of all the junk. I can guarantee that you won’t miss it in the next place; in fact, you’ll barely notice it’s gone. What you will feel is infinitely lighter, as you reclaim those empty spaces that we all need in our lives.

Ah, an empty space. A clean slate. A bare canvas. That’s what a new place is. This is your opportunity to try something new, to create a new ambience for a new you. Experiment with colours: if you’ve always gone for light, inoffensive pastels, try a bolder colour scheme (if you’re too scared, limit yourself to one wall out of four). Paint a mural on the ceiling. Jazz up dark corners with some snazzy wallpaper. It’s too much of an investment to buy new furniture, but it is quite cost-effective to give it a new look. Change the upholstery, or just buy new slip covers. Accessorize with new throw cushions, or a brand new set of curtains, and you will have updated your interiors without breaking the bank. 

But more than the opportunity to de-clutter and re-decorate, what a new house brings with it are the possibilities inherent in new beginnings. Maybe this is the place where you will finally reinvent yourself, becoming the person you were always meant to be. This could be the setting that inspires you to write the novel you always wanted to. This may be the house where you get around to starting a family. This could be the place where you finally find peace and contentment. 

And if you’re lucky, and it is meant to be, then this could be the home where you live happily ever after. What more could you ask for? (Apart from never having to move again, of course!)

Back to school

And the promise that the beginning of the school year held out

I am a bit hazy about when new school terms start these days – blame it on not having a few stroppy mites of my own – but I remember the beginning of my own academic year with crystal clarity. By some happy chance, it coincided with the beginning of the New Year itself. And so, as a new year dawned, it was time to enter a new class at school.

There was a certain ritualistic joy to the whole routine. The buying of new textbooks and notebooks, sitting down one evening with reams of brown paper to cover them before sticking on a label with my name and class clearly marked out. The new school bag and pencil box, the slightly larger uniform that I could grow into in the course of the year, the annual visit to Bata to buy the regulation school shoes and, if I could persuade my mother, a brand-new haircut.

The newness persisted once school actually began. There was a different classroom, for starters, and the chance to bag a better seat than the one I had the year before. There was all that jostling to ensure that my best friends were seated next to me. There was some nervous excitement at the thought of meeting the new class teacher, and much speculation about how nice/strict she would be. And then, there were the lessons themselves, comprising completely new information for our impressionable minds.

All told, there was a sense of making a fresh start, the promise of a new beginning. And I am sure it was the same for my classmates.

It didn’t matter if you had failed miserably at maths last year; this year you could do a complete turnaround and surprise everyone. Maybe this would be the year when you were finally elected class monitor. Perhaps, for once, you would not be the last person to be picked when the class was choosing its basketball team. And with a bit of luck, this time round you would land a meaty role in the annual school concert.

And the most brilliant thing about school – as far as I was concerned at least – was that you got this chance to start over every year.

And then came college, with an even bigger opportunity to completely recast your image. There you were, just another unknown in a cast of anonymous hundreds. Nobody really knew anything about you. The professors had no clue what you were good or bad at. Your classmates didn’t have any pre-conceptions about you, nor you about them. As for the smattering of old school friends still around – they were just as keen to re-invent themselves and hence were content to give you a wide berth.

So, here was the chance of a lifetime: to be whatever you had ever dreamt of becoming.

The class nerd could have a personality transplant and become the mainstay of the debating society. The mousey little girl with spectacles and braces, who always sat at the back of the class in school hoping desperately that no one would notice her, could get a makeover and become the star of the college’s drama division. The sports captain could flower into a writer; the swot could blossom into a singer; the class idiot could discover a sudden talent for photography.

This was a world brimming with possibilities; it was entirely up to you to reach out, grab one and then run with it.

I think, to some extent, that’s the problem with growing up – or even, growing older. The prospect of new beginnings begins to fade with each year, becoming more and more remote with every decade that passes you by.

I don’t mean to suggest that adults – young, middle-aged or old – cannot start over. Yes, of course we can. But without the optimism of youth to back us up, we find it much harder to take that leap of faith. It takes a certain insouciance to press alt, control, delete on the keyboard of life and start afresh. And the older we grow the less willing we are to take that risk.

That’s not to say that people don’t indulge in some sort of course correction at some point in their lives. Sometimes it comes as part of a mid-life crisis, sometimes as a wake-up call after a health scare, and sometimes it is the result of sheer boredom with the life you have been leading so far.

This may manifest itself in different ways. Men may cheat on their wives with their pretty young secretaries; women may sign up for plastic surgery to resurrect their younger selves; couples may relocate to a new city to rediscover the romance in their relationship; and people may change jobs, even careers, to recapture that rush that accompanies a new start.

But no matter what you hard you try to re-invent yourself as an adult, there is no denying the fact that the older you get the more difficult it is to rid yourself of the baggage of your past.

You may find a brand new wife/husband but the baggage of your first failed marriage will always weigh you down. You can try and recreate your childhood through your kids or even use them to fulfil your dreams. But kids have a way of growing up and moving on and there you are, left to your own devices once again.

I don’t know about you, but it makes me long for the promise that the beginning the school year held out.