We've finally done it...
Exchanged on the flat in Battersea we've lived in, partied in, become married in and welcomed Arthur to his first home. We've owned it for 8 years. We've had 8 housemates who are all our closest friends. I love this flat and everything we've done in it.
I can't believe it. How will we ever close the door for the last time?
I'm a little disappointing we've sold it to a bullish posh kid who should be from Made in Chelsea and whose only quip was... 'Is Queenstown Road safe?' Safe?! Those yummy mummies and young professionals are pretty bloody scary sometimes and she really should avoid the fine food shop at all costs.
The last three weeks have quite possibly been the most stressful of my life (seriously) I even tried to smoke at 9am one day. However - we are moving to a caravan in a muddy field in an area where I'm not even sure where the local supermarket is, let alone where we'll find any friends.
It is also very dark and London eyes will need adjusting.
I should just suck it up really - there is plenty more stress to come.
The bullish buyers of our flat have at least cemented in us how London can really turn some people into monsters! The people we have met in Gloucestershire operate on handshakes and recommendations. It will be nice to join in if we can handle not stuffing contracts into hands and shouting about LIABILITY.
'We are from LONDON you know?!'
So - we will be moving on Friday. To a cold, dark house with a baby & two cats who can't be let outside for 4 weeks. While we wait for the caravan to be delivered by some weirdo from Oxford. Then we will move into that. We are not entirely sure it works. But it was only £700 so I shouldn't complain.
I'll tell you a little about the plans and then use this blog to keep you updated - that way you can choose to be bored by photos of scaffolding or not. And i'll never see you yawn - or open another browser. And I'll have an outlet for this mental adventure and we'll all be happy...
Dursley Cross Farm is a Grade II listed, 3 bedroom farmhouse on the outskirts of a village called Longhope, Gloucestershire; between Ross-on-Wye and Cheltenham. It has 8 acres of grass and a withered old orchard that Beryl (the lovely lady who is vacating) swears produces plums. The house is not quite falling down, but the structural report couldn't quite understand why it was still standing. We fell in love with it the first time, and only the blind fear of what we might have to do to it, has slightly kept us on our toes. No matter what else we've discovered in the process, no matter what ridiculous quotes have come in, we have stayed focused on this as our family pad. And a perfect retreat for all you lot when we finally get settled.
As a start, we need to replace the roof, make two further bedrooms in the attic space, convert two barns (one for the in-laws who are also ploughing their life savings into retiring in one), knock down the kitchen and relocate it, put in a new bathroom, insulate, heat, dig new drainage....
...Start a business...
It's a project to say the least.
All this while dealing with not having friends around the corner or Villa Maria Sauvignon blanc in the local shop. What are we doing....
I hope you will help us stay in touch by following this and passing on the prospects of Longhope becoming a premium tourist destination of 2013.
Cheerio London, now find me some Barley to chew on....
