An artist in limbo

📮 Moving house and a chance to start over?!

The space in my new home I’m most excited about - I have been going here every morning for an hour to draw.

Hello Powells,

This is the first postcard I am writing from my new home. A HOME, all of my own! Well, technically I share it with Stefan (my husband) and technically he bought it… but as we are married, I am allowed to live here BY LAW and that’s all that counts.

It all came about rather suddenly. One moment, we weren’t homeowners, the next we were. We packed* the following day with the help of friends and moved in a flurry of chaos, pints of ale, and fish and chips. Then, when the dust settled and the champagne was finished, I had a panic attack. I was surrounded by unlabelled boxes; the internet refused to work; the first draft of my next Marty Moose book was due in 3 days; I had no studio space; I was diagnosed with ADHD; I couldn’t find the box with my knickers in and when I had a bath to relax it flooded the kitchen, and we had to make an emergency call to Jo the Plumber.

In hindsight, we should have planned it a little better.  

Dog with stick. Soon available to buy…

BUT all that is forgotten because 3 weeks on and I am the proud owner (27% at best) of a house that boasts a porch, several outbuildings filled with spiders that I will never go into, TWO toilets, a garden bigger than Regents Park, and a designated space for coats.

What I am most thrilled by though is the liminal space I now find myself in. The move has allowed me to leave behind routines and behaviours that were stale and stifling, and to create new ones that take me closer to the life I want to be living: a simpler, more creative life. I’ve realised I don’t need much to be happy…

Good company, a few things to draw with and a designated space for coats.

Oh, and my box of knickers.

Powell x

*By packed I mean we shoved random items as fast as we could into whatever we could find and threw the whole lot into Ed’s van, 3 times over. Then we went to the pub.