I've had a lazy day with the Boy today - lunch out, when I finally lost my Nandos virginity, and a pleasant cinema trip. We're both in our pyjamas already and getting a few bits sorted for tomorrow before we enjoy a Sunday night evening snuggled up on the sofa together.
It's also been a weekend of planning. Having fallen pregnant so much sooner than the Boy and I thought we would, our plans for moving are coming into the forefront of our minds. We'd casually talked about putting our Borough flat on the market in the Autumn and we've been doing a little bit of house hunting on the internet, but now the move is much more of a priority.
We have a beautiful home at the moment. A sunny, large and nicely finished one bedroom flat in a modern block just behind Borough High Street and the market. I bought the flat just a few months before I met the Boy, so it's a flat filled with happiness and love, and memories of our relationship together from the early days, through our engagement and wedding day - and beyond. It's been such a sociable flat. We've had so many wild parties here that I've lost count of the various friends who've slept here planned or unplanned - on the sofa, in the bed, on the floor - even in the bath! We've had more than our fair share of drunken dinner parties and silly and spontaneous nights just the two of us, and we'll both be sad to leave Empire Towers behind. But we've been outgrowing the flat for the best part of a year, and it's not big enough to cope with any additions to our family.
The Boy has an appointment with a mortgage advisor on Friday, so this morning while he was sleeping in (I can't sleep at all any more despite not drinking which is hugely unfair but I assume is pregnancy-related so will forgive!) I went through all the original paperwork from when I bought the flat to dig out anything useful.
Hard to believe I had my offer on the place accepted in August 2006, four and a half years ago. I was 28, but it feels like a lifetime ago. I reminisced looking through the paperwork - I had no idea what lay ahead of me when I moved in. I was so scared doing it all on my own. I worried whether I could afford it, and if I was responsible enough to run a home alone with no one to fall back on. I managed it - just about! And I'm very proud of myself for that. It was a big ask of a girl who was having a bit of a crazy time when I signed on the dotted line, and spending way too much time and money in various bars in Shoreditch and not enough time in bed sleeping and being sensible! But somewhere along the line I grew up (finally) and everything fell into place.
We'll see what the mortgage advisor says to the Boy on Friday and I guess start to make more serious plans then. Saturday could well be a day of checking out our potential new area - East Greenwich / Charlton slopes. And we need to get the flat valued in the next few weeks as well. It's exciting. We're yet to see the firm figures of what we can afford, but it looks at a superficial level as if we can afford a three-bed flat or maisonette with a garden, which would be a great next step. We're ready for more of a 'home'.
I feel very excited although scared at the same time about the move. Much like I do about the baby. 2011 could be such a momentous year for us - a new home and a new baby. It's almost too much to take in. It seems everything I want from life as I grow older comes with greater responsibility, as it should be I suppose. And at least my gut instinct is to run to the Boy's arms for support and reassurance, not to the various landlords of East End boozers! That's got to be progress!