Moving, again.

Moving house is supposed to be one of the most stressful experiences in your life. I don’t really agree. This week my lifetime total of house moves reached 27, and I barely noticed, especially as this time I didn’t have to do it by public bus.
I didn’t want to move, but it became necessary. I’m working all day every day so I’ve got no time to look after V during her pregnancy. The solution (a bit of an odd one I’ll admit) has been to get a large two-floor flat on the edge of Beijing (Tongzhou) which we’re going to share with her family. We’ll have the upper floor, they’ll have the lower one.
For the moment this is just going to be a weekend thing, and I’ll have to get a room in the centre as I don’t fancy three hours of commuting on jam-packed subway trains every day. The current house is a bit big (& expensive) for this purpose, so as soon as I can find a room John and his girlfriend are moving in.
Next year I’ll hopefully be a director of studies, not working 9-6, not worrying about the rush hour and able to commute (fairly) painlessly. In the meantime, these arrangements will have to do.

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