In my head I thought I was prepared. Well practically I was. The move went smoothly. The removal men were swift and chatty, the cleaner cleaned and I tried my best to placate my two-year-old when the TV was packed up.
My idea of going on a final wander round Greenwich was scuppered by the rain and I ended up eating an uninspiring sandwich in a bookshop while my youngest slept.
It was saying final goodbyes at the school gates that it all got a bit too much. I started greeting and the kids just looked on slightly bemused.
We wandered back to the car over the white bridge and the muddy Creek. Someone, (it was signed 'The Ravensbourne Clan' ), had strung a line across it and there were bits of paper tied to it flapping in the wind. I don't normally take part in acts of public art but it seemed quite apt to do so this time. So we made a wish and added our names to the others.
The drive out of London into the Blackwall tunnel was 'Wacky races' according to my eldest. Well it was a bank holiday so it took hours and we arrived, in the dark, in a thunderstorm.
We woke to bright blue skies and chirping birds. And fresh air.
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