Where it all began...

Almost two years ago we made the move from Enfield, North London to the wilds of East Yorkshire - my home village to be precise. Despite living here for the first 18 years of my life, i'd been away a long time and some serious readjustment followed. My husband is a Londoner born and bred and so this was an even greater culture shock for him. In our first few months we seriously wondered what we'd done, committing to a life without Starbucks when we'd spent years with retail therapy on our doorstep. But we'd found our dream house (we'd actually walked past it on our wedding day and admired it), we have two children who needed a garden that we could never afford in London and we needed to stop watching reruns of River Cottage and start living it.

An offer was accepted, i found a new job and husband was persuaded to become a stay at home dad for the forseeable future. Before we knew it we were here and living the dream, building raised beds, planting veg, soaking up blue sky.

But before you think this is all smug loveliness, we also discovered rising damp, occasional social attitudes that I thought hadnt been legal since 1973 and that I'd forgotten just how flippin cold it can be up North!

Despite this were still here, the chickens have arrived (more of them to come) and now I cant imagine living anywhere else (unless it had fields, and more land, and barns and stables and room for goats...)