April 2022 -- Thirty Years Ago... Moving Times

Me at 38

It's hard to believe it was 30 years ago on Apr 14th since I moved to Northumberland. It was the second big move of my life. The first was from N. Ireland to Cardiff, 14 years previously, with only a trunk and a suitcase to take up a new job.

Noel had been here since February and I was left to work my contract out and pack up the house. It was a lonely time, eased by the kindness of good friends like Alun and Mary Norman. Luckily I had a bit of help from Krissy Kirby (Smith) on that final day. It would have been grim had nobody else been there. 

As it was, Pickford's loaded all our belongings of 14 years, into the van, I hoovered, locked the door of our house in Port Talbot and left to spend my last evening in Wales, in Swansea, with family. The next morning carrying only an overnight bag, I took the National Coach to Newcastle via Birmingham and Noel met me some eight hours later at Gallowgate bus station. It was Eastertime so we had to wait a week for the keys to our new pad in the grounds of St Mary's Hospital, Morpeth and for our stuff to be delivered. It didn't really matter as long as we were back together! 

It was a lovely house in the grounds of a Psychiatric Hospital, surrounded by trees, red squirrels and rabbits, views right over the Northumberland countryside to the south, lots of fresh air -- just right for the stress I'd been under. It no longer exists because it was demolished when the hospital closed, but we both remember 2 Southview fondly.

And looking back on things now, I couldn't be happier with the turns my life took. I don't suppose I count as Northumbrian yet but most of the time I feel at home and I have now lived longer in Morpeth than anywhere else in all my life. That has to count for something. In any case, we have little intention of ever moving again. It inspired a story though and some good 'moving tips' actually if you would care to follow the link below.

                                                        STORY: Moving Times

It is a hard enough thing to leave a place voluntarily, to have time to do it, to have another place to go and to know the people you love are safe. Let's spare a thought this Easter for those millions of refugees who have had to leave everything behind, including people they love, in a war zone. I can't imagine how that must feel.

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