I remember the first time we viewed what would become our new three-bedroom home. Everything that prompted us to make an offer revolved around the specifics of the house, proximity to the local station and nearby schools. It was a pretty road of terraced Victorian houses, and ticked our boxes. You don’t give much thought to the other families who might live on the road. You certainly don’t think life long best friends are a few doors down.

Shortly after we had moved in an elderly lady called Joan came and knocked on the door. She’d heard that a new young family had moved in and took it upon herself to introduce me to three other families in the street.

There were the Dunns, the Coles and the Bells, and we all had kids roughly the same age. What started with an occasional coffee morning grew into so much more. Before long our children ran in and out of each other’s homes, and spent afternoons cycling up and down the road, while we stood outside keeping eye on them and drinking cups of tea. Camping holidays were booked, endless sleepovers and trips to the seaside were embarked upon. We all babysat for each other and enjoyed a drink or two at the pub, with late nights laughing over wine and food around one of our kitchen tables.

We stayed in that house for eight years. The Coles are still there, the Dunns in Scotland and the Bells in The Lake District. The Bells were the first to move away, and we were all devastated, waving them off with tears streaming down our cheeks, thinking things would never be the same.

But over 30 years later, long after we moved, they’re still some of my best friends. We have shared family tragedies and moments of celebration. They were all there to support me when my first husband died, but also when I got remarried and when I moved abroad. They were there when my younger daughter got married last summer.

If I drive down that road now the memories of our time there come back in a flash. I can almost see us all traipsing up and down for afternoons in each other's gardens. I never would have thought all those years ago that house would come with the friendships I went on to make. As a young mother, it was these three families and their friendships that, for the first time, gave me a true sense of ‘home’.

AM, France

Further information

What makes a house a home and why does it matter so much? Our new series, 'Moving Stories', inspired by Savills new advertising campaign, explores the complex relationship between home and home-owner with funny, sad and bittersweet reflections on moving out, moving in and moving on.

We invite you to submit your own Moving Stories and we will donate £50 to Dreams Come True for every one we publish on Savills UK Blog. We'll also make a donation for every story submitted for consideration.