I am writing this surrounded by packed up boxes, trying to steel myself for yet another evening of sorting and packing.
Tonight is our last night in the flat. In every direction all I can see are boxes and memories.
This is the flat I bought eleven years ago as a single girl, though my boyfriend at the time I was buying it soon became my fiance and then my husband.
This is the flat where I spent the night before my wedding and to which I came back as a new bride.
This is the flat which has seen me return late and leave early for four different jobs and it was at this desk overlooking the street that I decided to start mirrormirror.
This is the flat which has been stuffed full of cushions, candles and packing boxes for the best part of the last two years.
This is the flat where I suffered through four miscarriages and where I discovered I was pregnant with the Minx.
This is the flat where I had a terrible bleeding episode while pregnant and was convinced I was miscarrying, only to find that the baby was still safe and sound.
This is the flat which we brought our baby home to after a worrying week in the Special Baby Unit, where we tiptoed around introducing her to every room.
This is the flat where I sat breastfeeding for hours at a time feeling depressed and miserable.
This is the flat where my baby learned to walk and learned to talk.
This is the flat where we decided to go to Seattle.
This is the flat where I’ve spent the happiest years of my life so far.
The photos are not very good, being quickly taken one evening to send to a journalist. You must also remember that normally the flat is covered with a thick layer of bright plastic toys.