Nirvana

I don’t care I don’t care I don’t care

Nirvana’s very good for Saturday traffic because you turn it up loud and then you really don’t care. It’s unbelievably crowded here today – lots of happy smiling people with swishy hair, and that puzzles me because I thought we were all supposed to be poor, and miserable, and buckling down to it. I can’t see anyone who fits that description. Except possibly me, if I look in the rear view mirror, but even I’m feeling a bit better because of the music.

I don’t care I don’t care I don’t care

I do though. It doesn’t matter how loud it is. I should be going to Zachy’s party in London and I can’t. Instead I’ve started the house selling process, and three estate agents are coming next week to give me a valuation. They all sound exactly the same over the phone – bracing, upbeat and breezy, and they all have names like Crispin and I bet they all wear the same Barbour jacket too – with a little tweed tie just peeping out from underneath.

Anyway, they’ll be rolling up next week with their clipboards and they sounded very positive on the phone – “oh yes we sold thirteen last week” – which is just as well since I want to get shot of this house and the whole gloomy process as soon as possible. I was beginning to worry that there might not be anyone left in England with enough money to be able to afford my house.

So I’m desperately trying to make it look well cared for and beautiful, for when they come. I know people say not to bother – that they can see past clutter, but I have to give this my best shot. I hate the whole process though – the uncertainty, the cleaning, the smiling at potential buyers, the terrifying survey – the breath holding moments as he goes around – the bit where he stops and writes something down and you imagine the worst.

It’s not just that though. Not this time. It’s the leap in the dark afterwards that's making me stop filling bin bags from time to time, wondering suddenly if I should chuck the whole thing in – stay here forever, not sell at all. I could easily phone them and say there’s been a mistake and I’ve changed my mind. It’s not too late.

Waiting to turn out into the busy main road, a man in a transit van smiles at me and lets me in. People are nice here – kind - and even the weather’s not too bad today – sunshine, fifteen degrees, lovely autumn colours. There are so many beautiful trees.

Later, in my garden, through the big glass doors that I’m cleaning, the sun streams in, and I can see a magpie pecking at the lawn. I stop what I’m doing and wait, holding my breath, until I see another. A part of me is – not frightened exactly – I’m not scared – it’s not that. It’s just…

I have thrown so much away. Each bin bag I fill, each drawer I clear, reminds me of how awful it’s been, how unhappy I was. There are things – clothes, shoes… things I bought, that I never even took out of their cellophane bags. What was I thinking of? Perhaps that it would make up for how horrible everything was? It never did of course. Such a waste. And then I get to the older stuff, from when my children were little – the first teeth in the envelope, each one put carefully under the pillow, the hand drawn mothers’ day cards, the school photographs. When you have little children, you’re so busy, so tired - there’s no time to worry about anything else.

Then it goes further back still; love letters, a bank statement from 1982 – how old fashioned it looks now! And two little stars, one black, one red, that Joel gave me, and I threaded them onto earrings. I put them carefully into a jewellery box.

It’s all ended now – all of it, and I have to go. I have to. And I want to go to Tucson. It’s definitely the right thing to do. I’m happy about it. Although it’s going to be hard work, I’m happy and excited about it

My back’s hurting. I open a window, stretch, and light a cigarette. Outside the leaves from the huge oak tree are blowing across the wide front gardens, and two pheasants are calling to each other. It’s so peaceful here; no traffic noises – no-one’s even mowing their lawn. I am doing the right thing.