So my house lies empty awaiting its tenants, floor and walls naked, no furniture or ornaments at all.
In other words, it looks much the same as when I was living in it, except perhaps for the bookshelf.
It was a great house. Easy to take care of, no carpets or curtains, just hard floors and geometric shapes that took less than an hour to clean. Small but adequate, three little storeys and some outside space, a ten-minute wak from a Tube or a huge Tesco, one minute from a park with a running track. I enjoyed living there.
And now I'm heading for a four-metre rented room in a flat shared with others, on the campus of a university. Well, I knew the next stage of life meant making a BIG change, and for me they don't get any bigger than this.
Tomorrow: into Shakespeare country. To my new home.