Today is the end of a very long journey, one that I didn't want to take when I first set off in 1976. When I signed on the dotted line I felt as though I was signing my life away. That it would be the end of freedom as I know it. I felt that I would be carrying a massive burden for the rest of my life, that it would weigh ,me down, and I would be trapped with no way out.
But now, 37 years later, I have found the way out, I carry that burden no more, it has gone. Now I have my freedom back, and it feels pretty darn good. Chuffed? You bet I am. Chuffed that I stuck it out, chuffed that I worked hard, and chuffed that I never missed one payment in all that time. Today, I made my very last mortgage payment, and the house I sit in belongs to me.
I don't care that nearly everything in it is second hand. I don't care that my furniture is old fashioned. I don't care that I don't have a massive TV or a leather sofa. I don't care that the chair I am sitting on was given to me. I don't care that I wear second hand clothes, or cut my own hair, or buy out of date food. I don't chuffin care that my house is ex council, and not in the posh street on the other side of the village. It is my house.
These walls that could do with a lick of paint are my walls. This roof which has a few tiles missing is my roof. The old tumbledown garage which needs updating is my garage. The crumbling driveway with weeds poking through, is my driveway. The light that doesn't work in the kitchen, the guttering that leaks when it rains, the bath that isn't sealed properly around the edge, the shower that doesn't work, the toilet seat that is broken, the single glaze window which needs replacing, the front porch where the wood is rotting, and the small window in the outside store that is about to fall out, are all minor details that I can live with. They may or may not get fixed, I don't care.
Tonight I am proud to sit in my house.
Lots of love, Ilona xxx
1 hour ago