They called me brave when in my twenties, at very short notice, I accepted a friend’s suggestion and we took off for Kathmandu on a three-month long overland journey in a truck, camping in remote places where the local people found us as strange and fascinating as we found their communities and landscapes; crossing deserts, mountains and rivers; confronting suspicious and sometimes aggressive guards at one border or another.

They called me brave when in middle age I left my settled life in Shropshire and headed alone to Granada to start a new life there where I knew no one and had nothing solid to go to, neither job nor home.

Twenty-five years on, I’m contemplating another big change (or it seems big to me after twenty years in the house I love in Sacromonte). In terms of distance, my planned move to Salobreña on Granada’s Costa Tropical is not great but it will take as much courage as those previous leaps in the dark. Age makes a difference and I’m not as brave as I was. Doubts were still assailing me as I signed the preliminary contract this week and paid the ten per cent deposit.

I’ve never put down roots for so long in one place. How can I bear to leave when I’m so rich in friends and my social ties and networks are all centred on Granada, most of them in my immediate neighbourhood? I will of course keep up my friendships as much as possible. Salobreña is only an hour or so away on the bus, (two hours taking into account the town bus from Granada’s bus station, which is some way out) and many of my friends have cars, though I don’t. If I’ve managed to stay in touch with old friends in England for twenty-five years, I can surely manage to continue seeing my Granada friends. Even so, it will be a wrench.

From the window by my desk here I have views of the Generalife and trees. I’m convinced these views help give me creative inspiration. Will it be the same in a flat where the windows look across to other flats? From my new terrace I can see mountains, but in between is the main coast road with a constant stream of traffic and a petrol station. On the plus side, I have the sea close by, only a twenty-five minute walk away, less by bike. I’ve always been inspired by the sea – swimming in it, listening to the lapping of waves, observing its changing colours and movements, on calm days or stormy ones.

A milder climate both summer and winter will make life more comfortable and I won’t have the daily challenge of steep hills, uneven cobbles and flights of steps to contend with. I’m thinking ahead to a time when I’m not as fit as now. Cycling will be easier in a relatively flat town (but which also has the charm of a casco histórico on a hill with a castle at the top. And that’s not to mention my favourite bookshop, Librería 1616 and its enthusiastic owner, Antonio. I’ve presented both my Spain novels there; they sell more of my books than any other shop.

While one part of me is already mourning the losses to come, another part is excited by the idea of starting a new life in a new place, forging new friendships; once again taking on a challenge. If I stay where I am, I could so easily get into a rut, sticking to old routines within my comfort zone. A move will act as a stimulus, possibly opening up exciting possibilities I cannot imagine in advance.

In the meantime there remain to me a few more months to make the most of the time I still have in Granada. I will be taking countless memories with me even as I discard many of the accumulated possessions of twenty-five years – books, clothes, abandoned writings, mementos from my travels – that won’t fit into a small flat. I will no doubt feel nostalgic for my time in this privileged setting. A few photos of my surroundings might explain my ambivalence about leaving.