Life lately (in Manchester)

Ever since I can remember I've had the recurring dream that someone is chasing me along a dark street, but as I turn to run away under the yellow glow of the street lights, I look down to see that I'm up to my knees in mud or water - my legs wading but unable to move fast enough to out-run my attacker. I expect for most people this is a fairly standard semi-nightmare, but I find it curious that the dream I remember having as a little girl is the same one I have in my adulthood.

I've hunted around for all kinds of explanations for this dream, and have conceded that it probably has something to do with running away from emotions, situations or certain people in my life. Most of us have at some time or other confronted that age-old warning that we're running away from our problems, and this maxim caused me to do a lot of soul-searching before deciding to move to Manchester. I was worried (and I suppose I still am) that the snags and snipes that upset me in London would snap at my heels all the way up north, so I'm trying to be wary before giving a resounding thumbs up (or down) to our big move, taking it one day at a time and approaching every situation with a full heart and an open mind.

The dust has just about settled on the initial flap and clatter of moving home: the boxes are unpacked and recycled, the fridge is full and the ebb and flow of daily routines have started to set in -work schedules, commutes, bill payments and bed times. Naively I thought this point would be the marker for officially being 'settled in', but as days 12, 13 and 14 slip by, I realise that it's a far more complicated and lengthy process than I anticipated. Beyond the boxes and the DIY and direct debits there's a whole other process of embedding yourself into a new city, a new culture and a new set of friends, and that takes time and courage.

I've started my new marketing communications job in the fundraising team at the University of Manchester, and so far am really enjoying my new role. I'm based in a beautiful old building with stained glass windows, vaulted ceilings, musty old books and elaborate staircases. My team are lovely, my work is interesting and I'm getting my teeth into some exciting projects. The other day I went for a wander through the university campus. It's exam time here so the thick and constant stream of students (or so I'm told) has been reduced to a mere trickle. As I wandered down the main campus road, I spotted lots of freshers, four months into their new lives here, clustered in small giggling groups, eating lunch together or chatting about this or that, and it reminded me how easy it was at the tender age of 18 to make new friends. Perhaps it was because we were all in the same boat, but I remember collecting friends like stamps back then, thrown together and connecting like magnets in the hectic start to university. 13 years later (gulp) and it's a whole other story. The prospect of making new friends terrifies me, and I find myself feeling racked with self doubt, having to force myself out of my comfort zone and suggest coffees or lunches to get to know people. It's strange really. I'm quite confident in my job, and everyone has been so lovely to me, but I hate the fear of rejection and vulnerability that comes with making new friends. Today an old colleague sent me a picture of herself and another friend, and it made me realise how much I miss familiar faces and warm smiles - the ease and comfort of well-established friendships. I'm sure it will come with time, and it really isn't all doom and gloom. I'm wholeheartedly happy and know that the strange will soon become familiar, so I'll stop ruminating and instead focus on the positives, like these little snapshots of the beautiful buildings I work in:

I've also changed my hours to 8-4, so while my 6am alarm feels a little beastly in the dark, cold and wet mornings, it means I get home for about 4.30pm and catch the sun setting on the route home.

This week I also had the chance to wear my new mustard peg trousers from ASOS, which I snapped up in the sale for a meagre £13 and absolutely love.

We're still waiting for our internet access to be sorted (I'm frantically bashing away on the keyboard during my lunch break), and my camera hasn't seen the light of day for the past two weeks. We haven't got a bed or any lounge furniture to speak of, but by next week it should all be fixed and ready to go.

Last night we spent a rock and roll Thursday evening pushing a trolley up and down the aisles of B&Q in search of paint. I've been eagerly pinning pictures on Pinterest of my ideal bedroom and I think (I hope!) I've whittled it down to sage green walls with antique white trim. We're currently sleeping in the spare room while we wait for our bed to arrive, and in anticipation of this exciting event our weekend will consist of dust sheets and paint rollers. We have a lot of prep work to do, including stripping wallpaper (yuck), but I'm holding on resolutely to the holy grail of having a beautiful bedroom to snuggle into in a few days.

That's about it for now. I hope you're all having a lovely week and looking forward to lots of exciting adventures over the weekend. I'm sorry for the lack of decent pictures but I promise to unpack my camera this weekend!

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