Those of you who give a monkey's (no, we don't need a show of hands, thank you), may have noticed an absence of inane drivel for some time now. I can only hope that you have found an alternative sleeping pill to re balance your chakras. The reason for my absence is a lack of inspiration and a movement in the force.
Towards the end of last year a management meeting of Biddy Inc was held in the kitchen. Present were The Present Husband and myself. There was only one item on the agenda:
It's time to move.
The urge to embrace new places has been rumbling on for a while. The field that we once gazed out on at the back of our house is now a housing estate. From the bedroom window, the view is now a brick wall. Consequently, the decision was made; let's follow our dream to live in a bungalow near the sea and practice being a couple of old codgers. We had already been practising the codgerdom aspect, but the sea, sun and open spaces were required to fulfil the dream.
Thus, on a warm spring afternoon in May we moved into a lovely little bungalow, four miles from the nearest town (Shopping, yeh!) and twelve miles from the sea (fish & chips, sunscreen and bucket and spade, Woop-Woop!).
TPH fell in love with our new home on the first viewing. I took a second viewing to accept that it was the best of the six properties that we had seen on that day - I had actually lost the will to live and was willing to set up a tent on the beach by that stage.
The sale of our old house and the purchase of our dream home included all the usual hiccups. The phone and internet were cut off five weeks early (well done BT!). However, our fabulous neighbour let us log on to her wifi signal so that we could communicate with the utility and financial companies, the government departments that provide our pensions, and the family and chums who may one day wonder where we'd gone. (I accept that this is open to debate but let's be gentle).
Lists were made, remade and new lists added to the lists of what needed to be done, had been done, and didn't stand a chance of being done in this lifetime.
A survey of the dream home was requested to ensure it was not likely to fall down in the immediate future, or was a danger to life and limb. It transpired that this was a total waste of money. We have no idea which house the surveyor chappie assessed, but the report bears no reflection to the property we moved into. We are still looking for the damp problem in the bathroom. The infestation of black beetles in the shed (which apparently could cause it to fall down) are conspicuous by their absence.
He did miss the inability to access the boiler and fuse box due to a cupboard which had been built round them so tightly that the access panels could not be removed. He also missed the leaking guttering, which offers a damn good impersonation of Niagra Falls when it rains. The garden gate was sealed by years of non use - even WD40 wouldn't shift the blighter without the hinges coming off with the gate!
However, all these irritations have been sorted out and we are now on to purchasing curtains, rugs and the paraphernalia that make a house a home.
Our new neighbours appear a friendly, happy bunch who have offered any advice or assistance that we need.
Our best mates - who live a few miles away are always available for advice, alcohol, a bed for the night and general moral support. That's what mates are all about! Indeed, the day we moved in, my pal spent the whole day with me, preventing total meltdown. Once they had helped us settle the furniture into our new home - the removal men were delighted with the extra pairs of hands to fetch and carry - they rescued us that evening and took us to a smashing local hostelry where we ate, drank and chilled out.
All in all, this was a good move. It's now possible have a stroll by the sea, get the shopping and be home in time for an afternoon nap.
Onward and upward chaps!
