Hello Highgate Hill! After a ridiculously long time in the one place I have now successfully relocated. I love the feeling of freshness that comes from moving but as much as I love the opportunity there’s something quite unsettling about moving. Don’t get me wrong, my fab new apartment is just ripe with potential and everything went terribly smoothly!

I love the wives-tale of buttering a cats paws when moved, allegedly the cat is compelled to lick the butter off which is comforting and resulting in a catty sense of well-being. I’m in no way advocating buttery pedicures for any species but I do wonder what the human equivalent might be… What ritual do we rely on to feel settled after moving?

My circle of friends confirmed the process that symbolises they’re at rest in the new home. There was something that when safely installed into the new home meant they were home. For one family member, it was stocking the fridge. Another friend revealed it was unpacking her (sizable) jewellery collection and carefully placing in a new arrangement. Other friends shared things like: hanging a particular artwork, unpacking a collection of books, cracking that first beer, installing favourite chair… for me (being ever the practical woman) it is my piano. And it is home.