Leaving Cardiff

For over eight years I have loved living in Cardiff – but now it’s time to leave.

To be honest, I don’t really want to leave but I am being moved on. I say that like I have no choice - I do, of course have a choice, but there have been some rather timely happenings that have given me more than a little nudge to pastures new. In fact, everything points to me to move and begin my new life in the Midlands with my lovely boyfriend. For example, losing my job and becoming homeless.

I blame my Grandmother. In December, on her birthday, she said she wanted only two things. One was for her son (my Dad) to live closer. Cue my Dad buying a Cafe in Worcester and getting a place only 15 minutes walk from her doorstep.

The second was to have her granddaughter (me) to live closer. I know now that it was only a matter of time before I fell victim.

You see, the problem is, I am not really a ‘leave your life behind just to be with your boyfriend’ type of girl. I like living my own, separate Claire life. I have friends here who I can go to their house uninvited and unannounced and I am always welcome. I have a friend who calls me her wife, and a friend who when I became homeless gave me a home. I have (well, soon to be had) a job I love and which still amazes me how I ever managed to get it. I have a view from my desk of the Bay. My manager challenges me to shoe designing competitions. There are great places to eat and drink here. I know where the best pasta is, where the best mojito is made. I know the best place to have your hair done, the best bikini waxer in town and where to get a perfect brow shape for £5. I know people – everywhere I go I see someone from somewhere in my life here. And I love Wales...

But alas. My life is obviously in control of the gods. And, not that the move will be so bad. For three years I have had a ‘weekend’ relationship, either hurtling down the M50 before I can have a glass of wine after a hard week at work or having to come home and be a good girlfriend and cook something nice without getting too drunk before he arrives.

I won’t have to pack and unpack and pack and unpack. I can see my friends on Saturday and my boyfriend on a Wednesday. I can live in a house that I’m more than just a lodger in. I can leave my dinner plates unwashed by the sink and not feel guilty. I can have pets. I will always have my full wardrobe at my disposal. If I’m sick, I will have someone to cook for me. I can stop spending half of my salary on petrol and chocolate bars and Quavers from Ross on Wye service station. I can do housework on Tuesdays. I can chill out on Thursdays.

So. Even if it is to the land-locked Midlands, it seems the decision is made and I only have about ten weeks left in Cardiff.

In that time, I am determined to do everything humanly possible to leave with no regrets. I need a plan to keep me busy, to keep my mind off moving, off leaving the place I love. I need to do of all the things I should do, visit all the places that should be visited, eat all the best food that can be eaten, shop all the best shops to shop and see all the people that should be seen.

I am in need of a jam-packed 'Leaving Cardiff Bucket List'.

Thinking caps on...