Regular followers of my Twitter account will know that my husband H had a stroke at the end of 2018. He came home – to a two-storey house – unable to manage the stairs. Since then, he’s slept in the living room and toileted in the kitchen. Not ideal circumstances, I’m sure you’ll agree.
Our new housing officer certainly did. In the space of the two months since she took over, we’ve had increased support and, the day we went away to Matlock, texted with the news the housing association had identified a bungalow being vacated.
^^ This bungalow (photo from Google Maps, so roughly 10 years old)
I’ve viewed it this morning. It has two bedrooms, widened doorways, and a wet room separate from the flipping kitchen. Reader, I accepted the offer.
I’m waiting on the paperwork to accept the tenancy, at which point I’ll get the keys. It’s happened pretty fast and feels a little surreal. It has been a very, very long time. 27 months since H came home. But here we are, on the verge of a fresh start in a lovely property that I cannot wait to make our own.