It’s time to go again. The first part of the housesit is finished and we’re upping sticks for 10 days while the owners of the property return for their Easter vacation.
Quite a bizarre concept to clear away all your stuff, put it into storage and then 10 days later take it all out again and put it back into exactly the same space. It feels like living in a doll’s house under the control of a capricious child who can’t decide who lives here yet, the Joneses or the Smiths.
It’s all very cathartic though, as it’s made me see exactly what I own. Which isn’t a lot: three pairs of trousers, five shirts, four T-shirts, a few jackets, five pairs of shoes, a smattering of camping gear, a very old guitar, my bike, a boxful of books, a laptop, and two Bialetti stovetop Mokas.
I had much more stuff when I was 20. Stereos, sound systems, clothes, records, furniture, TVs, pictures, guitar cabs, lights, a piano. Plus piles more stuff I can’t even remember, only that it needed a Transit to move it all. Now at a push, I could probably make do with a chunky suitcase.
But it was my aim to have as little as possible before I was 40. I prefer to live light. I have enough to think about without worrying about sofas, flat pack furniture, cabinets and wide screen TVs. And I think if I had the choice, I’d live in a bare lighthouse stripped of all its fittings with my table facing out to the sea. Watch the seagulls circle outside my window as I go slowly nuts from the never ending wind and rain hammering against my window.
Anyway, despite having to vacate the property for Easter, this housesitting lark is recommended. For the simple fact that we don’t have the burden (or cost) of owning a property, nor the cost of renting one. Best of both worlds.
Furthermore, it allows us to go on holiday, so tomorrow we’re off to the Pyrenees to see what they look like. Tall and mountainous, I’m told, which is good, because it’s bloody flat round here. And windy and rainy. Although no seagulls. I made that up.