I was going to sell my house and move to France.

I'm still moving to France, but I'm not selling. I decided this morning, when I was out in the garden and a curlew flew overhead, like a sign.

My house is part of me. It's a tiny, eighteenth century worker's cottage, in a wonderful village where everyone looks out for everyone else.

I'm leaving, but not leaving Cowbird too. For a heartfelt personal reason. I'll be back.

I've realised it's possible to leave, but not leave.