I think it is fair to say that I have, actually, fucked up quite badly.
Luckily one of the nice things about being married to someone who is not a nobber is that that's okay.
Even when you realise just three months after moving house that
- actually, you were so desperate to get out of the Grime City that is Wallasey
- that in order to get away from your crazy-like-a-fox next door neighbour
- and to get settled before hypothetical children are placed with you at the behest of your adoption agency
- and in a bout of chronic homesick-for-the-countryness
.... you bought the first house that you liked, in a village that you liked, in the countryside.
Instead of making a more thorough plan to actually buy somewhere with a few acres where you could put down some roots, both literally and metaphorically, for the future.
Finding it difficult to admit that I have made a mistake is always a bit of a challenge for me. I suppose that starting big is as good a way to go as any.