Studies list 'moving house' as one of the top five most stressful life events and after the chaos of the last few weeks, I couldn't agree more. For that reason this is going to be my last blog post for a while. I need a little time to take stock and reassemble! Once the dust has settled, I may think about how to resurrect The Little House once again. In the meantime, I look forward to visiting all my favourite blogs more frequently rather than adding to my own.
|S helps out|
This is our third move in the last four years so you'd think we'd have a smooth running no-hassle operation by now. But no, if anything, this has for me been one of the worst moving experiences and, paradoxically, one of the best.
Having to move when you really don't want to. I loved everything about The Little House - the sea views, the kitchen with lots of space for entertaining, the swallows in the barn, even the quirky uneven floors (and the front door that sticks). It was so very hard having to say goodbye and more than a few tears were shed. There is nothing wrong with the new house. Though it is very little, it's very sweet and it has an equally lovely location but I feel homesick for the old one.
Discovering delightful things about the new house including being woken up by an owl at 7am (was it confused by the still dark morning or just saying hello to the new neighbours, I wonder). In the new house we are surrounded by trees and the gables, and leaded-light windows, make me feel that I'm in a fairy tale - I'm expecting Hansel and Gretel to come calling any moment!
|Luna's looking for her food|
Finding things you had forgotten all about and reminiscing - the photo albums, the children's drawings and mementos and cards and letters that I've kept from family members now no longer with us. The girls have been surprisngly good about sharing a room despite the age difference (it's definitely not cool when you're almost 16 to share with your soft-toy-obsessed 11 year old sister). Nevertheless, H had a pleasant break from revision and created a fort with the boxes where she settled down with her little sister to watch a Disney film beneath the blanket roof.
And the Best Again
Keeping with the positive and the reason for this post's title - finding out who your friends really are. I've never been as thankful for good friends as I have these last two months. Old and new friends have rallied round and gone beyond the call of duty to help whether that's in storing furniture for us or physically helping with the move itself. We hired a van and the menfolk (and women and children too) heaved and lifted and manoeuvred, all in the pouring rain. I'm sure there was more than a little muscle soreness on Monday morning but I heard not one complaint just lots of laughter and good humour. I was handed a box of delicious brownies, endless cups of coffee, sympathy, tissues...and a box of wine! These are the reasons we more than 'get by'. It's what I will keep firmly in mind when I'm tempted to wallow in self-indulgent gloom - I am lucky, we are lucky and we're so grateful to have found this little community - and as one friend reminded me it's people who make a home not things and without love, family, and friends to visit, a house is just four walls.