I moved house this weekend.

A rough trawl through the years puts this latest (rented) abode as my 24th place of residence; a fact I find faintly worrysome. This particular move was physically and emotionally knackering. No sooner had I dumped all my stuff, unsorted, into the house I now share with Johnny HamFisted, I was off again on tour. Firstly to Ipswich, and now Margate (I write from the fantastic time-warp that is the Walpole Bay Hotel). Regular moving appeals to the gypsy in me, but makes for inconsistencies elsewhere in one’s life (imagine the lost mail consumed by previous addresses).

My new house is close to where Tolkien grew up (the two towers inspiration still standing in adjacent streets) and the open space of Edgbaston Reservoir makes it feel like we’re in Birmingham-on-Sea – (complete with onshore breeze, rattle of masts and the call of gulls).

The itinerant in me is allthemore appreciative of having some small ether-space in my own name. This URL feels like a Home, somehow.

Thanks for popping by….