Well we have officially moved and said farewell to our beautiful little Wood Street Cottage for a while. The actual act of completing the move, putting most of our remaining belongings into storage and doing a thorough clean made me realise a few things.
Firstly, I love our little cottage. It has been a wonderful home for the three of us. It is the first house I have ever owned and in the 3 ½ years we have lived there the walls have contained so much love, laughter and magic. It has seen its share of tears and heart ache as well but what stands out for me is the magic. I don’t know how our 12-month adventure is going to change us, but one thing for sure is, I am so happy knowing that we have our cottage with the lemon tree that never stops giving to come home to. It is perfect for the five of us. Not too big, not too little. It is just right.
Secondly, it will break my heart to say goodbye to Kevin and Rosie. The morning after we had moved into Mum & Phil’s we went for our walk at the park, we are so close now we could walk instead of driving. We returned to our new interim home and the kids went in with the dogs whilst I jumped into the car to go for a quick drive chasing sunbeams, windmills and autumn leaves. I was only five minutes gone when Rissie called me and told me that the dogs had gone. I drove home immediately and found the dogs sitting outside our little cottage, waiting patiently and looking at me as if to say, “what took you so fucking long?” They had gone home. I know I am inclined to be a histrionic wreck on occasion but the fact they had obviously chased me and gone home to wait for me made my little black heart shed a tear. I know they will be in good hands with my brother John, they will be spoiled rotten. They are having their own 12-month adventure, so all good. But I also know the day we have to say goodbye to Kevin and Rosie will momentarily break my heart.
Thirdly, I fucking hate moving house.
Fourthly, I am a dirty slut. I thought I kept a clean and tidy home. Actually, in all honesty I can be a bit anal about tidiness and everything having its place so I thought in terms of keeping house I did a pretty good job. But after two days of some very intensive cleaning with my mum and my aunt Ruth I have realised I had no idea and that in reality my house was actually filthy. How is it that a fridge that is never moved can collect so much filth? How is it that I never realised that Rissie seemed to compulsively eat packets of Tiny Teddies and leave the empty packets shoved in strange places all around the house? No wonder we kept running out of bloody packets of Tiny Teddies.
By Sunday night I was absolutely shattered. I could not have done the whole thing without the help of Phil & Neil who provided the muscle, the ute and the horse float and my mum and Ruth who were relentless in organising storage and working like navvies for two days to transform my little house into something immaculate.
So now we move into our final phase before departure. Time to focus on cleaning up Ruby, my reliable little red car, and getting her ready to sell. At the moment it seems as if there are so many farewells to make.
So farewell Wood Street Cottage, we shall be back.