Before we even knew we’d be moving to Glenmore Park, I’d been told (repeatedly) that the suburb was a rabbit warren. It seems the locals have been programmed to make a comment about the bendy roads or the stress on car tyres as soon as the place is mentioned; I’ve heard the words “rabbit” and “warren” more times over the last few months than I have before in my entire life.
Anywho, it turns out Glenmore Park is seriously like a rabbit warren. We went to visit our new house on Friday afternoon after signing the lease, and if I wasn’t following my husband on his motorbike I would have had to pull over to re-check the directions. There are approximately three straight roads in the entire suburb; all of the others wind this way and that like a drunk and if you were to drive along them too fast or for too long you’d risk vomiting on arrival at your destination. Here is a picture of a normal suburb (Penrith):
And here is a picture of Glenmore Park:
Our place is right in the middle.
I should be looking for things I’ll love about living out there, but I’m beyond the excited, “YAY, we finally got a place!” stage and am currently hovering around the sad, “Maybe if I just write blog posts instead of packing we won’t ever have to move and we’ll be able to stay here forever and live happily ever after” stage. It’s been a busy week of lasts – last time changing the sheets at this place, last time the Palace Cinema in Leichhardt will be just down the road, last time I can easily go out with a friend for a giant cookie and gelato sandwich in Newtown, last time we visit this or that park – and I’m starting to feel bummed about the whole move.
Our new place is so nice, the backyard is amazing, the carpet is new and squishy and a yummy shade of brown. We'll be closer to Nanna and Pop. It won't take us 45 minutes to get to church. We’ll be able to have a Bible study group meet at our house and start getting to know our church family so much better.
And we’ll at least be safe if ever a fox comes sniffing around one of the entrances.