Moving Day
It doesn’t matter how organised you are, moving house is an absolute nightmare. How could I have lost a massive saucepan and a casserole dish in the space of 4 days?
The day of the move came and although everything was planned, we forgot (once again) the size of the van we had hired and we were faced with the conundrum of whether to put the children’s precious items in it or three mattresses. No, of course we weren’t faced with that dilemma, however one of my poor children wanted all of his items in the van first as he had already cleverly worked out that the van was too small for everything. In the end, there was probably only about a 10cm gap from the roof of the van to our belongings. I have to say that was the best-packed van in history. However 10cm doesn’t get you out of the hole of two double mattresses and two singles mattresses. Oh well. Three hours later than planned (and after asking advice from the local Mairie who took the mattresses for us for the local Croix Rouge), we were finally on our journey. Three hours late might not have been a problem for all, but of course the day we were travelling happened to be the hottest of the year so far, and instead of travelling in the cool hours of the morning, we were now travelling in a packed car in scorching heat with no air-conditioning. Dog-worries started to come to the fore, as to whether she would over-heat or get ill. In the end she was wonderful, and although telling us off profusely when we arrived, she bounced into the garden unscathed. Travelling with pets can be so stressful and I was glad I had made a separate journey the week before with the cats.
That was a story in itself, as the room had been used as a storeroom and in the space of an hour my teenage daughter and I had to change the use of the room to one that could house cats for a month. All well and good, until we tried to shut the door. Try as we could, the damned door wouldn’t shut and there was a big cat-sized escape hole at the bottom. There was no way we could take a door down and repair the situation. In the end, drastic measures were called for and the tiles in the room were lifted off and levered up along the door frame, so that the door could finally close! I think we both had a a MacGyver moment. Okay, the door is not beautiful, but it now functions. Surely that is worth a gold star?
The plan was to go swimming every day once we arrived at the village in the community pool, but now with all the bruises across my body from furniture falling on me or from dragging and carrying items up and down 4 flights of stairs, I think I will give that a miss. Don’t want people to start slipping me brochures about wife-battery!
So back to those pans. Well, the furniture is just about all in its respective rooms, bar a massive fridge and a chest of drawers. As a move goes, pretty amazing. Did anything get broken? I would have to say no, but a telly appears to have overheated and now is refusing to work. Not bad. Our main problem is that in essence we are downsizing. We are putting essentially two and a half houses worth of “stuff” into one house. This meant that the very next day we were off to the local Emmaus to donate furniture. We however still have two whole bedrooms worth of stuff. Oh, and no loft space. Well there is a loft space, but you have to be stark raving mad to get into it. The trap door is above the four flights of stairs and you will definitely not catch me anywhere near that contraption. One of the quirks of a village house.
As I sit here in the latest new heatwave, I am grateful for the older houses in villages. Their construction is better suited to the environment we are experiencing today. The stones insulate us from the heat outside, the high ceilings enable the heat to go upwards and dissipate more quickly. Sitting on the veranda, I am sure there will be people out there thinking that surely the farmhouse in the middle of nowhere is a better location? Maybe. But as you get older, priorities change. We always wanted to live for a while in the Pyrénées, deep n the mountains. So this adventure scratches that itch. Having a home in the centre of an active village had never before been on our radar, but then the attraction of having all the facilities we might need just a few metres walk away is a bonus. Yes there is traffic noise, but we feel part of a community already. Time will tell if it is the best choice, but I am already sure it is the better option, one that we will be able to learn from, and we can develop into more environmentally-conscious human beings.
MidLife Crisis In France
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