I'll Tell You Why I Live Where I Live

I love memes. So because I love them, I thought, for once, I’d actually start one!

I’m going to tell you why I live where I live. I’m going to show you a photo. And I’m going to tag seven people to explain why they live where THEY live and post a photo of their house (and garden) – or flat, or yurt, or caravan or whatever!

I’m interested in what takes us to certain places – what makes us want to live there – what makes our hearts sing about them and what they would miss if they were somewhere else.

I know, sometimes you don’t love where you live. Sometimes you’re there when you don’t want to be. But something keeps you there. What is it?

If you really hate your living place – how about posting about a place that does make your heart sing and your eyes light up and the photo album come out.

This is my house.

I love it! Having moved from Tasmania to Sydney when I was 4, I grew up on the North West coast – out in the country. Everyone knew everyone else and everyone knew each other’s business. Being Tasmania, many people were related. As a child, I adored it – I wandered far and wide, through the bush accompanied by our family Lab and, later, riding my horse.

As I became a teenager, I couldn’t wait to leave. The city was exotic and romantic, there was so much more happening – music, art theatre, bands, clubs – everything! At 18, I left and went to university in Hobart.

Then followed a succession of student houses shared with others and all the usual detritus of city living. I bought a house and lived in an inner city suburb – then got a dream job in another city – so I moved to Launceston – and back into shared houses! Launceston was fun – more fun than Hobart in some ways and I still lived in the inner city. I met the Accountant and off we went to Hong Kong.

There we lived on the 12th floor of an apartment block in mid-levels, in a 600 square foot flat. Hong Kong was lots of fun and we made some great friends and lived the expat life. Then we travelled and ended up in Queensland. Eight years of heat and humidity, no proper seasons (just hot and wet, cooler, jacaranda and mango). I pined for Tasmania, for four proper seasons and for proper spuds (sold by name!) and apples and berries and winter and port and fires and dry summers. My father had a stroke and that decided it.

We would move back to Tasmania, and get to spend some time with our families. In Queensland we had been burgled and I no longer felt safe there. We decided we would try and find a lovely old house. Every trip down we’d look at houses. There was no real estate boom then. That came later. People would move to the west coast of Tassie and have to return part of the Federal Government’s $7,000 grant – because the house they bought cost less than that!

We looked and looked and found this house. It was equidistant between both our families. It was near the ferry and the airport. It was just outside a beautiful little town. It had 7 acres and beautiful gardens (they are no longer quite so beautiful). We could afford it. I had seen it and the Accountant had not – photos only! We bought it and I had nightmares for weeks (what it he hated it? We’d be stuck in a house he hated!). Luckily he loved it.

We all love it. It’s cold in winter and hard to heat. But it’s a lovely happy house and it’s ours!

OK. Now for tags. Zephyrama, Bells, Taphophile, Madmad, 2Paw, Rosered, Knightly Knitter, Tell me why you live where you live – flash a photo and tell me what you love about it!