Skip to main content

The place we currently call...


...home
Of course home is also where the heart is, but this little corner of northern Thailand is where we lay our heads if not our hats.

Apologies for the cramped image; large house + small soi = not enough space to take a photo. I think this is the largest space I have ever lived in: three bedrooms, three bathrooms (four if you count the maid's room which is full of dismantled bed as we don't have a live in maid), large living room, kitchen and laundry room. It is detached with a small but florabundant garden.

The house is a stone's throw from the river Ping, which is great until it bursts it banks. Luckily that hasn't happened in our tenure. So far.

I am a real home person so my roosting place is quite important to me. Dom would live happily in a box. I could... but would rather not and I try not to compromise even though renting. Admittedly, everywhere has a little bit of compromise, this is rather inconvieniently located and is very unfortunately next door to an incinerator. Had we known this we would probably not signed the contract. But the house itself is perfect - a little big for two (when we were making the decision about where to live we were hoping for guests) but with the cats and puppy scampering round it is definitely home.

For now.

Popular posts from this blog

My Self-Help Addiction

Today I am getting up close and personal with my self-help habit.  I have been looking for answers for years but seem no closer to finding them than when I first began to look.  Could it be that the search is futile?

From blogging to vlogging

So I started a YouTube channel called Imagine the North, and here is the first video.  It is my attempt at picking up where I left off when the blogging muse failed me.  Let's hope the muse of vlogging is a little more tenacious.  It is rough and ready, I need a lot of practice but here goes.  Love.

Journalling - humble beginnings

When I was about 10 years old I had a sleep-over at a friend's house. We got ready for bed and went to say good night to my friend's mum who was herself sitting up in bed writing in a notebook.
"What are you writing?" I asked.
"Well, actually I am writing about you" she smiled. "Every night I write the day's events in my diary, the things I did, what made me happy and what made me sad. Right now I am telling my diary how you came to spend the day and night at our house."
My friend's mum, her bright coloured pyjamas and her glasses perched on her nose with a double drape of beaded chain swinging from each temple, instantly became promoted to the coolest person I knew. She was talking to her diary, about me no less.

Subsequently I became one of those people who started a diary on January the first every year of my life (since I have been able to write) and rarely made it past Epiphany. Maybe once or twice I dragged my pen into February …