Hey Reader,
If you’ve noticed the silence in your inbox over the past couple of weeks, it’s because I’ve been deep in the chaos of moving house. Not just any house — the one I’ve lived in for over 15 years.
The only home my son Jett has ever known. The place I raised him, rebuilt myself, built businesses, healed heartbreak, and put my life back together more than once.
I’d planned everything down to the hour. Packing, removals, keys, handover. Until four days before we were due to move, the new place fell through — because of all things, a TPO. A tree preservation order. A tree.
It really hit me … I was already emotional and this nearly tipped me over the edge …
I came home, looked at Drew and Jett and said, “Please don’t talk to me. I just need to figure this out.” And I meant it. Sometimes you need silence to make space for the right decision. I opened Rightmove like a woman possessed, searching everything within a five-mile radius. Nothing. Literally nothing. So I did what any rational person does at that point: I walked to my local café and bought a flat white.
I came back. Hit refresh. And there it was — a house I’d never seen before, in a part of London I’d never even visited. Beckenham. It didn’t tick the location boxes I was looking for, but it spoke to me. So I jumped in the car with Drew, saw it the same day, and made an asking price offer. But the landlord had only just listed the property — for sale and for rent — and he wasn’t ready to commit. He asked for a week to think about it.
I didn’t have a week. I had four days.
So I asked the agent to set up a meeting and went back to the house to meet him in person 2 days later. Within ten minutes of talking to him, I knew he was one of us. Grew up on a council estate. Built an online business in the 90s. Had his exit. Now invests in property and other businesses. We spent the first 30 minutes talking about domain names and exits — not the house.
By the end of the meeting, he handed me the code to the lockbox and said I could move in that Friday. Contracts could wait until next week.
And just like that, everything shifted.
We’ve been here a few weeks now and, honestly, we love it. The house has space (6 bedrooms cough, cough!), light, calm. It's backs onto 257 acres of rewilded parkland, has room for a home gym and even has a swimming lake with a 10 min walk … and the best flat whites within 5!
Maybe even more importantly, it’s giving me headspace I didn’t realise I needed. We said we’d rent for two years while we figured out our next long-term move, but who knows… we may end up buying it.
What I’ve realised through all of this is just how easy it is to grip too tightly onto plans that no longer serve us. I’d convinced myself the original house was “the one” because it was safe and familiar. It was a beautiful property, don’t get me wrong — but I was holding onto it because it was in a familiar area not because it was the dream house. The house falling through felt like a disaster at the time, but I can see now it was fate. A forced reset. A new chapter I didn’t know I was ready for.
And isn’t that the thing? Change rarely feels good when it’s happening — it feels disruptive, inconvenient, even painful. But it almost always gives us what we need, if we’re willing to let go of what we thought we wanted.
So, what’s the takeaway?
- Sometimes the plan falling apart is the plan. I know that sounds trite, but this wasn’t a mindset mantra — this was my actual, lived experience. The house we didn’t get was never meant for us. The one we did? Already feels like home.
- If you’re in the middle of a mess, give yourself room to figure it out. I didn’t make a decision in the chaos. I made coffee. I cleared my head. I asked for space. And in that space, the answer appeared.
- Trust your instinct, even when it looks illogical on paper. I had never been to Beckenham. The location didn’t feature once on my spreadsheet. But the moment I walked through the door, I knew. And I’ve learned to back my instinct.
So if you’re going through your own version of a ‘last-minute curveball’ right now — whether it’s personal, professional or something in-between — don’t assume it’s a setback. It might be your re-route. It might be the thing that finally gives you what you’ve been asking for all along.
It’s good to be back. But for now, just know — life might not be going to plan, but that doesn’t mean it’s going wrong.
We’ve got this …
