We moved after 31 years from the first house we’d bought after DH retired from the Army. We had finally put down roots. It was our first proper home, in an area I had known all my life, and close to my family. It was a horrible wrench but we moved to a lovely house in an area that is as near to living in the country as we’re ever likely to get. Wonderful neighbours. However after a week of living in the house I became so ill I thought I was dying. I lost a stone in weight. Nothing anyone could put their finger on. The doctor said emotional stress caused by the move, so we went on holiday for a couple of weeks and came back to it with a fresh eye. I’ve never looked back.
I drive past my old house often, as I visit my niece who lives on the same estate, and get very nostalgic still but I don’t regret the move and I’m sure, OP, neither will you. Good luck to you.
What do you find yourself avoiding more as you get older?





