Now, I live in London.

Here’s how it’s been, so far…

Last week, I moved to London.

I gave each of my children a small storage box to fill with their special toys, materials and ornaments, and folded all of our clothes into clear sacks.

My own belongings - laptop, Kindle, iPad, notepads, tarot cards and gemstones - were packed in a large black rucksack.

The car boot was completely rammed and I had to sit cross-legged for the three-hour drive, as there was no space for my legs on the floor.

As we drove away from Frome, I didn’t feel particularly sad - luckily, we will still be spending a lot of time there - but I did feel contemplative.

We spent two years living in that beautiful Somerset town full of creativity, nature, magic and the most wonderful community of people.

Now, we were driving into this new life in London with lots of unknowns.

For a while, we’ll be staying with my parents while we look for our own place to live, so we arrived at their house and unpacked all of our bits.

Moving back in with your parents in your late 30s really does feel like moving home. Life, for various reasons, had been feeling fragile and precarious and now, I felt safe.

But there was a strange feeling, on first arriving, because I’d been expecting it to feel like bright blue skies and sunshine and yellow bricks roads…

And that didn’t happen.