Super glue, takeaways, Vimto... | Jack Marshall's column

Both mentally and physically, it’s as if for a brief moment the needle on the record player is slightly off but there’s nothing you can do but wait for your brain to adjust. But adjusting is a deeply vulnerable thing to do because - if you’re lucky - you already had a home, which carried with it a guarantee of safety and sanctuary.

On a primal level, accepting somewhere new as home is a big step.

Transforming an empty house into a place where you live, sleep, cook, laugh, love, relax, and everything else in between is obviously not an exact science or else IKEA would have already cornered the market with their Hyggënflauten kits which turn anywhere into a cosy homestead.

There’s no set of instructions to follow short of essentially spending time in a place, getting to know its bones, and doing everyday things there.

Sure, there are checklists of essentials to make sure you have before moving (don’t forget scissors, everybody forgets scissors until that Sunday night when the shops are closed and you suddenly realise how useful scissors would have been to buy in advance).

Core essentials like tin-openers and shower gel which allow you to function as a complete and full-formed adult who can feed and wash yourself are one thing. Personal essentials are a whole other matter which you only come to realise are uniquely indispensable after a few days of adjusting to the new record needle groove.

In my case: super glue to patch up that inch-long sliver of wooden floorboard in the living room which keeps falling down into the cellar. Peppermint oil to spray in the nooks and crannies as a natural spider repellent. Vimto.

These things help. They nudge the needle across until the record starts playing a slightly more familiar tune.

Other things which help include watching inane and wonderfully nostalgic TV, doing a food shop to fill up the fridge, and just spending nights in your new home. Takeaways are good, too. Just make sure you’ve updated your address. Gently hammer it into your psyche that this is now where you do all this stuff.

Then, all of a sudden, you’ll realise the record player is singing a tune you know well. It’ll happen at the drop of a hat and without you noticing. And while there are still unfamiliar floorboards whose creaks I’m yet to learn, it’s just about getting there.