I heart my house.

I moved into this big old terrace house nearly nine years ago after a particularly nasty split and felt as though I'd found a kindred building, as there is a huge crack from the ground to second floor ceiling which seemed to echo the rent in my heart.

Well, my heart mended... but the crack in the wall has continued to grow and spawn still more cracks as the years have progressed. For a while we could see through to the neighbours' hallway until they sealed up the gap on their side of the shared wall.

This house has been part of our extended social circle for around a decade and a half, the lease passing from friend to friend as people have come and gone and moved on to less ramshackle abodes on less traffic plagued streets. Not I, though. Not that I haven't tried, but the thought of joining the desperate hordes that show up at rental property inspections has sent me running back to the comfort of my welcoming friend.

But now the day has finally come and we have received formal notice to vacate its beloved, crumbling walls as the owner is preparing to move in and renovate. I am happy for the house as it will finally get the love and attention it is sorely in need of, but very sad for me. This really is the end of an era; I've lived a fairly hefty chunk of my life within its walls.

So thank you and farewell 62 A.P. i will miss you.