Buses.

I am in Birmigham, in the home of the parentals, awaiting both aforementioned parentals and also travelling sister, who is no longer travelling and who I will see for the first time in about nine months.

Littlest sister will be joining us later and together we are spending this weekend in the family home for the last time. It is not only me who is moving next week, it is also mum and dad. The home that we grew up in, we are saying goodbye to.

Things are all change.

Just before I stepped into the Tickle-mobile to putter up to the Midlands, I received a letter. A letter which informed me that I have been accepted onto the counselling course.

All change, move along the bus please.

And on Monday I move with my lovely hub and our lovely weird cat to our lovely new flat (I am still fretting about where the litter tray will go...)

Ding ding!

I am apprehensive and excited and a little full of loss. Doors are closing and opening. Buses are arriving at their destinations and new buses are departing.

And this would be an appropriate place for some sort of journey-type metaphor.

Blimey.

Blimey.