WARNING: This post is a personal one and may contain over emotional-ness.
Just over a year ago I packed up my little cottage in the town I loved and the area I had lived in for most of my life and moved to a strange village 50 miles away, just outside of Sheffield.
I left my house, my job, my local pubs and shops and most importantly - my family and friends.
This was all in aid of moving closer to my boyfriend's work and saving him travelling 500 miles a week just to go to work and back.
I've always said I wanted to make a fresh start - there had been a lot of things I'd rather forget and as it was a small village it was hard to escape without actually leaving - so I thought great, nows your chance! Do something impulsive!