In August, I moved. I moved to an apartment with a view; described by one local amateur thespian as ‘Not a location, but a destination, darling!’ I didn’t just arrive here, I was absorbed. My default detachment setting was over-ridden. The neighbourhood took me in, gave me flowers, wine (lots of wine, it’s Wivenhoe), conversation and a sense of community.
Four months later, I remain centre stage at a waterside theatre; the winter stalls filled by fishing boats, cyclists, walkers, runners, dogs and their humans. This week, I exchanged Christmas gifts with neighbours and so discovered my new name. NextDoor is where I am (even if they live in the next street).