Storing the excess

Hard to believe that just a month ago we were starting the very painful process of moving out of the cottage. We had a very kind offer of storage space at a friend's small holding, so the first thing to do was to sort out what was going away for a while. Letter press stuff mostly, and various bits of furniture, some of which has not seen the light of day since we moved here.

Just over a year ago, Debs and Neil enabled me to hold my book launch and charity cupcake party at their house, just before moving on to their own new place and fresh beginnings. Now they rolled up with a large van to help us with our move. What splendid friends to have!

The outhouse seemed to have accumulated an awful lot of things...

But my poor old 'joanna' has been languishing in the cobwebby dark for ten years. Another few months won't hurt her.

Andy was van-packer extraodinaire -

 - and at last we had a quick tea break in our poor neglected back garden.

Then it was a cross county drive to the new small holding.

I was shivering with exhaustion by this point, but a pot of tea helped, while Andy made friends with 'the boys'.

Then we were taken on a  grand tour - to see the chickens -

Peek at the broody hen -

Admire the 'harbour' of neat raised beds.

                              

Watch the clownish ducklings - now teenagers, but still holding their baby down in places.

Andy fed the naughty goats;

'Look at me!'

'No, look at ME!'

 

'Let's break out (again) - hurrah!'

 

The sheep were amazingly tame, all part of the plan to have a 'petting farm' in the future.

So I could get up closer than usual to take my snaps.

 

The sows were magnificent - both splendidly pregnant and after feeding, demanding strokes and massages.

Which left both ladies blissed out. Porcine Paradise.

 

By now, it was twilight and we headed back to the farm.

Andy and Neil unloaded the groaning van, while I flopped about with a beer and admired Deb's new loom.

After we'd devoured home made cottage pie, it was time for us to leave this -  

- and return to this.

There was more to come - and I still can't believe we actually did it.

*Updated from library PC - still no internet access - roll on July 4th!

Still alive

Still alive and well, but thanks to a fiasco with a certain large British Telecommunication company we have no internet access until July the fourth. I'm a half hour walk from the nearest country bus stop and three miles from town where I can get onto a computer, so even that is limited.

I miss you all horribly and can't wait to get back. Apart from that, everything is fine. ♥

Packing up the cottage

Oh little cottage. I knew as soon as I stepped over your threshold ten years ago, that you were far too small for us. Two tall people - one exceptionally tall - and all my *stuff*. But I fell in love with your 240 year old stone flagged floor, your vintage cast iron woodburner (which has caused more than one chimney fire), your characterful beams.   Who knew that we would mould ourselves so snugly into you and fit even more *stuff* into your many corners and up the walls? 

Looking back as I pack up my thousands of beloved books, I find it incredible that we've managed to live in such cramped - if picturesque - conditions for so long. There is no way of stretching or moving with ease, no comfortable head height. Indeed, there is an ancient original beam (I think it basically holds you together), which has knocked poor Andy's head many a time.

Not forgetting the time I fell down your quaintly narrow, winding stairs and almost broke my neck one Christmas Eve.

My book collection seems to have mysteriously doubled in size. Ten years of village fete book stalls.

 So now, at last,  we are finally on the move. Paintwork is being re-touched (though goodness knows, you weren't exactly in tip-top shape when we first moved in).

 

Time to cull some old cricket bats and donate them to the village fete jumble. There will be more cricket one day, another place and time. These old soldiers have done their time.

Paperwork is sorted.

With a certain ginger secretary lending a helping paw.

 We share  Rodney's bonfire across the way. Taking him tea and biscuits later by way of a thank you.



         



As I continue to pack up (two weeks so far and counting) I  find treasures I packed away for safety ten years ago, which are only seeing the light of day now. 

When will it all end?

 

Where are we going?

To the glorious, bosomy county of Shropshire.  If I ever finish packing, that is.