At the old house doing some packing, sorting out old rubbish, and re-plastering a wall that got damp a while back and started to crumble.
It's weird being back, it just doesn't feel like home any more. It's still ours but it just doesn't feel like it's ours. It's almost like entering a dead relative's house knowing that you have to clear out the remnants of their life but it's our lives that have moved on and our things that we are choosing whether to keep or not.
We have to be here, and will have to come back a number of times yet, but I can't help but feel I'd rather just lock the door, not look back and never return.