Last month I went up to Keith in Northern Scotland to help my dad move from the family home into sheltered accommodation. Since neither I nor my sister are never going to move up there, the logical next step was to sell the family home. My mum and dad had lived there for 41 years and I lived there when I went to school in Keith, plus on numerous visits subsequently, so parting with it is going to be an emotional experience. If only I could have lifted it and placed it down here in London.
We put in on the market on the Tuesday and expected that the sale would take months. By the Friday we had accepted an offer!
So this weekend I head back to Keith to remove items from the house. The actual sale happens at the end of the month. I'll stay in the house which will be weird for two reasons. It will be the first time I have ever stayed in the house on my own. And of course it will be the last time I will be able to stay there.
Logically it is the correct thing to do, and getting such a quick sale, and at the asking price, was great. But excuse me if I shed a small tear before I return back to London on Sunday.
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