![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizgnPS69onUKpyl8Mr04zI-sjtzMMDicMu150KErCZ_DZc_N1ZdmQKVNaPQzuJNi1o5dSCj9yRj6zNpUS-e8_yQsWK1IuYWsAVMbhXQARjVPLl-sS4Z88lhumuf2RHl26fpbqPlFvsrDJ8/s200/goodbye.png)
Yes, our little white house in Cheshire. A place that holds a pinata-full of memories ... a little poke and they all come tumbling out. I still wish I could pick up that house that we nurtured so, and bring it down here. But that is of course fanciful silly-talk, and we've agreed to sell it to a stranger named Johns. Or is it Jones? Whoever they are, I hope they'll be happy there. I know I was (most of the time anyway).
Perhaps now Big G and I will be able to put down some new roots? Goodness knows, we have a bag full of homeless, dangling roots that need to be dug in somewhere.