On the move (2)

We left our beloved house in BS7, Bristol, on 28 February as the move to France gathers speed. After a short interlude in spring in Devon with H’s dad we will, other things being equal, be in France by end of May - most likely in rented accommodation to begin with.

Before then I’m aiming to write a couple of biographical-type posts reflecting on Bristol and formative times.  

We moved to Bristol at the end of October in 2015. After over 7 years of living and working in London I had the opportunity to move cities whilst remaining working in the same organisation. As a civil servant in a central Whitehall Department jobs outside Westminster were relatively scarce at that time; it also mean putting a severe break on a still nascent(ish) career with a much reduced prospect of further promotion or variety of roles in future.

This has never been a source of regret, or as it turned out in practice any break on my career, but the change of pace of life, even going from one big city to a smaller but still vibrant one was an amazing change. It felt like life was about to stretch out in front of us.

We had always wanted to return since we left Bristol the first time at the start of summer in 2007. I was working dead end jobs that year whilst H took a Masters degree, with me having completed a Masters the year before. It was a bittersweet journey back to the north of England to stay with parents for a short period whilst we worked out what to do, and we resolved to make sure we’d return to Bristol for good in the future.

That return happened seemingly all at once in September 2014. I saw some jobs come up in Bristol when the Education Department, where I worked at the time, created some new regional structures to manage the reforming school system in England. The first time around I didn’t even apply for the jobs, reticent as I was to jump ship to a completely unknown and untested  new role. But after regretting not applying the jobs were subsequently re-advertised and in my name went. One interview later with a Knight of the Realm (hi Sir David if you’re reading this) who was to be the senior boss, and I was given the job. Given it was a simple internal move in the organisation I had four weeks to sort myself out - leaving our a rented flat in Surbiton (we’d been creeping further South and West even in London) to find a new place in Bristol. 

The rental market in 2015 was busy, but not at the cut-throat levels of today’s Bristol market (a quick look on the Bristol subreddit will tell you all - well that and pictures of the suspension Bridge), and we found an ideal place on our first trip on a sunny Saturday in August 2014, a few minutes walk from the Arches on Gloucester Road. 

After saving for many years to try and buy a flat in London we found ourselves in the enviable position of actually being able to afford a proper house in Bristol, given the price differential. So as 2014 became 2015, and the winter passed into spring, we started looking. H took point as she was able to flex her diary a bit more than I was - seeing countless places that were just not quite right, with us both going to see those that were the most likely contenders. We had just walked out of another place (too small), when the agent told us about a house not yet advertised but due to go on the market imminently. 

It was a little above our budget but sounded like it would fit the bill, in his view. A phone call later and a quick visit to the office to collect keys and there we were on a beautiful sunny day, walking through the door of a classic Victorian terrace in Bristol, just off Gloucester Road.

I think we both knew it was the one after about a second. It needed work in every room and in the overgrown garden you can see in the photo (perhaps more of that in a follow-up) but was on at a good price. After some quick reflection post-visit we offered the asking price, which was accepted. Woohoo!