After a lifetime of London living, an urban family, used to the conveniences of the city try adapting to life in the country. Where on earth do we think of moving to and how insane are we to even consider it?
I’m convinced that our house chose us. With only four months left before Jo had to start her courses at College (a testimony to my faith that I would move to Lewes that we enrolled her in the first place) my dreams of moving from London’s suburbs to a life in the country were beginning to fade. Our dream of running a B & B had sadly failed abysmally. The Gods had obviously seen my cooking skills and decided to save the masses from my attempts at full English breakfast, regardless of my championing local produce. After finding the perfect B & B property we made an offer and were at the discussing fixtures and fittings stage when the vendor pulled out. Not to be discouraged in my attempt to spend my days changing beds and folding my towels into threes so I could tell if they had been used, I then pursued two more properties with B & B possibilities, compromising on location and budget with a capital C and B.
With gazumping fast becoming part of my new vocabulary, I started to take the hint and re-visited our original brief.But I had not reckoned on fate. Not that I believe in it, of course; but by allowing myself to push the boundaries of our initial requirements the perfect house popped onto the screen and into the equation. Once we had visited and made our offer, moving in without a hitch seven weeks later seemed a breeze.
On moving day, after the removal men had dropped a packet of Turmeric, (yes I did say Turmeric) all over the hall carpet just as the new owners arrived, I found myself sitting in the car outside our old home for three hours while we waited for our two cats to appear.I watched as the new family loaded the contents of their removal van into what had been my home for the last twelve years.
On the upside, when we finally arrived at our new home, our new neighbours had taken in a delivery of flowers for us and then came and introduced themselves with another bunch of their own. That evening, exhausted but triumphant after making up the beds and finding our toothbrushes we walked across the road to the local pub where it was a pleasant sensation to venture inside and find a table readily available, rather than elbowing our way through a crowd. As the sun set, I stood at the end of the drive and looked at the lights twinkling from the children’s bedrooms, a feeling of excitement and apprehension overwhelmed me; was this really a new beginning or was it all going to be just a huge mistake?
Teresa x
I’m convinced that our house chose us. With only four months left before Jo had to start her courses at College (a testimony to my faith that I would move to Lewes that we enrolled her in the first place) my dreams of moving from London’s suburbs to a life in the country were beginning to fade. Our dream of running a B & B had sadly failed abysmally. The Gods had obviously seen my cooking skills and decided to save the masses from my attempts at full English breakfast, regardless of my championing local produce. After finding the perfect B & B property we made an offer and were at the discussing fixtures and fittings stage when the vendor pulled out. Not to be discouraged in my attempt to spend my days changing beds and folding my towels into threes so I could tell if they had been used, I then pursued two more properties with B & B possibilities, compromising on location and budget with a capital C and B.
With gazumping fast becoming part of my new vocabulary, I started to take the hint and re-visited our original brief.But I had not reckoned on fate. Not that I believe in it, of course; but by allowing myself to push the boundaries of our initial requirements the perfect house popped onto the screen and into the equation. Once we had visited and made our offer, moving in without a hitch seven weeks later seemed a breeze.
On moving day, after the removal men had dropped a packet of Turmeric, (yes I did say Turmeric) all over the hall carpet just as the new owners arrived, I found myself sitting in the car outside our old home for three hours while we waited for our two cats to appear.I watched as the new family loaded the contents of their removal van into what had been my home for the last twelve years.
On the upside, when we finally arrived at our new home, our new neighbours had taken in a delivery of flowers for us and then came and introduced themselves with another bunch of their own. That evening, exhausted but triumphant after making up the beds and finding our toothbrushes we walked across the road to the local pub where it was a pleasant sensation to venture inside and find a table readily available, rather than elbowing our way through a crowd. As the sun set, I stood at the end of the drive and looked at the lights twinkling from the children’s bedrooms, a feeling of excitement and apprehension overwhelmed me; was this really a new beginning or was it all going to be just a huge mistake?
Teresa x
