Move move move

I woke unusually early this morning and, as I lay in the dark listening to the pre-dawn chorus of cockerels crowing far and near, for some reason I counted up all of the places i've called home throughout my life - 14 so far. That's 13 moves in nearly 54 years, the first with my parents in 1975, the latest two with Mrs S and ten in-between solo, or with friends and other strangers. Is there an average number of moves one makes in a life? I find the whole business ridiculously stressful, so i'm in no hurry to to add another to the list. Fortunately for me, Mrs S took charge of the situation a couple of years ago, when we moved from our rented place in the city to a slightly more rural home of our own. There were a few moments back then where it was all proving too much, my chest became tight and I seriously felt as though I might have a heart attack - never again!

This is a 1961 photo of home number one, the house in Walthamstow where I lived from birth until the age of 15 - that's me sitting up in my pram in the front garden. While recently thinning out some old family paperwork, I discovered that Dad took a mortgage out on the place in 1958 for the mighty sum of £1100. When he sold up in 1975 it went for £11,000. I have no idea what property values in the area are now, but no doubt the figure would make my eyes water. I haven't ventured back into the old neighbourhood for over 20 years, but then, there is no real need to anymore, it's all up here (taps head). Besides, these days if I ever get the urge to actually revisit my old stomping grounds I can simply jump online to Google Street View, where i'll quickly discover that the old stomping grounds up here (taps head), are long gone.

Here's the great Alan Hawkshaw to add some groove to your next move.