This blog is a bit of an addendum / confession.
In all the chaos that surrounds me I cannot tell if I am coming or going.
(My sister-in-law helpfully informs me that I am going to the new place, coming to Cardiff, going back to the new place, and then coming back to Cardiff again before going once more to the new place and staying there. Thanks Jen.)
Anyway, not that you'd know, but I was wrong in my last blog about how much time we've spent on our new home. I said we'd spent two weekends working on it when it was in fact just one very long, labour intensive one. It makes no difference to you, but I saw my mistake and had to correct it.
It provides me with the opportunity to get something off my chest.
We went back down to our new home last Friday to pick up the keys and start moving in. A lot of people went to extraordinary lengths to make it possible, and our thanks go out to them. Poppa Doc ran like an All Black on a wild-goose-chase through Christmas crowds, while Nanny Sue helped with the tricky negotiations.
Auntie Jennie and Uncle Phil drove for miles to help us transport a portion of our chattels and they were with us when we entered our home for the first time since the viewing.
I stood nervously on the threshold with fingers crossed, before opening the door. I begged out loud for it to be as wonderful as I remembered it. After a quick tour I was relieved to find that it was in fact more wonderful than I remembered. We found loads of great character details that we'd missed with the estate agent. I had been so blinded by the glorious entrance on the viewing that I had not taken much in after it.
2006 has been a fabulous year for us: our long-awaited Harriet was born, we got married in March so that Harriet and I would share the same surname, and now we have found our dream home. All this after years of hard slog, disappointment, and heartache, so I can be forgiven for being a bit overcome, can't I?
We were all stood together after completing our tour and we had just finished our wowing. I was ecstatic and my eyes met with my husband's (and formed a huge eye that could see in four different directions at once). As silence fell it felt like the right time to say something profound, spiritual and heartfelt.
I don't know why and I know not from whence it came, but for the first (and last) time in my life I raised my right hand and said, "High five!"
With every ounce of love he has for me, my husband was able to fight the urge to punch me and managed a cursory high-five to save me from looking even more of a tit. He really must love me.
I could have said anything else, anything, but it was like I was possessed by a really lame ghost. The awkwardness of that moment, and the silence which ensued, will certainly haunt me for a long time.
Jen and Phil, I'm sorry you had to witness that. I had a weak moment and shall be on my guard to never ever ever let a high-five catch me unawares again.
High-five?
What a twat.
In all the chaos that surrounds me I cannot tell if I am coming or going.
(My sister-in-law helpfully informs me that I am going to the new place, coming to Cardiff, going back to the new place, and then coming back to Cardiff again before going once more to the new place and staying there. Thanks Jen.)
Anyway, not that you'd know, but I was wrong in my last blog about how much time we've spent on our new home. I said we'd spent two weekends working on it when it was in fact just one very long, labour intensive one. It makes no difference to you, but I saw my mistake and had to correct it.
It provides me with the opportunity to get something off my chest.
We went back down to our new home last Friday to pick up the keys and start moving in. A lot of people went to extraordinary lengths to make it possible, and our thanks go out to them. Poppa Doc ran like an All Black on a wild-goose-chase through Christmas crowds, while Nanny Sue helped with the tricky negotiations.
Auntie Jennie and Uncle Phil drove for miles to help us transport a portion of our chattels and they were with us when we entered our home for the first time since the viewing.
I stood nervously on the threshold with fingers crossed, before opening the door. I begged out loud for it to be as wonderful as I remembered it. After a quick tour I was relieved to find that it was in fact more wonderful than I remembered. We found loads of great character details that we'd missed with the estate agent. I had been so blinded by the glorious entrance on the viewing that I had not taken much in after it.
2006 has been a fabulous year for us: our long-awaited Harriet was born, we got married in March so that Harriet and I would share the same surname, and now we have found our dream home. All this after years of hard slog, disappointment, and heartache, so I can be forgiven for being a bit overcome, can't I?
We were all stood together after completing our tour and we had just finished our wowing. I was ecstatic and my eyes met with my husband's (and formed a huge eye that could see in four different directions at once). As silence fell it felt like the right time to say something profound, spiritual and heartfelt.
I don't know why and I know not from whence it came, but for the first (and last) time in my life I raised my right hand and said, "High five!"
With every ounce of love he has for me, my husband was able to fight the urge to punch me and managed a cursory high-five to save me from looking even more of a tit. He really must love me.
I could have said anything else, anything, but it was like I was possessed by a really lame ghost. The awkwardness of that moment, and the silence which ensued, will certainly haunt me for a long time.
Jen and Phil, I'm sorry you had to witness that. I had a weak moment and shall be on my guard to never ever ever let a high-five catch me unawares again.
High-five?
What a twat.
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