I started writing this as a ‘what we did at the weekend’ kind of post but it morphed into something that I think I actually needed to write. It’s a different kind of post to the usual but that’s probably not a bad thing!
Before I start, as I was sitting here typing most of it the four-year-old was making food for her wedding out of playdough. She made (so she told me), cabbage, broccoli and beef. She wanted my help to make some gammon and more cabbage ‘’coz I love cabbage, it’s my favourite.’ Well, I think I must have done something right with this one at least!
Back to business. We made a spontaneous trip to Herefordshire this weekend. As spontaneous as you can be when you have two small ones in tow. It was a week in the planning but felt very off the cuff. As we got further into the three hour drive it felt more and more as if we were skiving from normal life and hiding in the loos while everyone went to lessons. I kept expecting someone to ring and tell me off for not being at home.
We went because we are tired of the internet and wanted to do some actual research rather than look at another picture of a field and argue about whether 1.3 acres would be enough land or whether the pin on the satellite map is the actual house or is it that one over there next to the sewage plant… Also, Mr B admitted that he lost his heart to Herefordshire after our holiday there last summer. Totally canned the idea that we would be sensible and move to wherever we found the property that ticks the most boxes, but that’s ok with me! Basically, we thought some proper boots on the ground research would do us good. In reality, boots weren’t on the ground for very long as we spent most of the time in the car but it was worth it. Research wise it was very helpful, for example; 3.7 acres is great, 1.3 acres not enough; an existing holiday business is definitely preferable as run down barns look
terrifying worse in real life than on Rightmove…; ‘A’ roads will not be good locations for a glamping business. These things seem obvious really but all we had to go on before was a map and photos on the internet. It was a much-needed trip for clarification and has given us a lot to think about. As it turns out all the thinking has led to a radical shift in our plans, but that is for another post!
Mr B found it exceptionally hard to return to London and normality on Monday. I did too (to normality, not London) but I suspect that was just from knackeredness – Getting home at midnight and playing musical beds with the children in the sweltering Travelodge room the previous night (to the tune of Mr Bs snores) did not make for a productive Monday. Also, I have been thinking a lot about our long term goals and what that involves – basically moving house. I hate moving.
Don’t get me wrong I really want to make the move, do the plan and all that it involves but I am struggling with the idea of leaving things behind. By ‘things’ I mean family, friends, our house, the area. Those sort of ‘things’. I worry what friends think when I talk about moving. Do they think I’m being callous and don’t care about our friendship? The reality is that I care a lot and it makes me sad. When we moved to our current house we had decided that this would be it. We would stay here until we were fed up of the place, outgrown it and ready to move to a ‘grown up’ house in the same village (what is a grown up house anyway? I dunno, somewhere with a fourth bedroom or a ‘drawing room’ maybe). Because of this I immediately started to put down roots, make ‘mummy’ friends and embed myself in village life. I did it very well and have made great friends who I love, I love the area and as a massive bonus my
babysitters parents live in the neighbouring town. But now our plans have changed and while I am definitely on board with them, I have to tackle the thought of pulling up those roots that I purposefully sunk so deep. I am torn between the life I have here already and the future ‘what if’ life. I know that after a bit of time I will make friends and settle down in wherever it is we end up, but I am very settled here already. For Mr B, it’s a no-brainer – do the move, see his family more, build our own business, no commute. The poor thing has not had a chance to put roots down as London has leached away all his time. I will be leaving more behind than he is, but the one thing that I am missing in my settled life at the moment is him. To fix this, it is worth moving. It is not fair that he has to be the one making sacrifices all the time. But. I am sad about leaving all the ‘things’ behind.
Also I find it difficult to make new friends. I am shy and awkward and have always hated starting from scratch in new places like schools or towns. To be honest I almost cba* to do it all again. But I will, I’m not that antisocial!
When I start thinking like this I have to give myself a shake and a stern talking to. Thinking rationally, Mr Bs’ reasons for wanting to make the move sooner than the five-year plan (that we are now almost a year into), make perfect sense; house prices rising, starting businesses sooner means more income sooner, while the kids are small is better, he’s fed up of London…Thinking rationally, what do I want from this move? I want Mr B happier, to see him more, for the kids to see him more, to run our own business from home (part of my elaborate plan to never have to go back to work…), countryside, doing the things I’d always daydreamed about but didn’t think would really happen. After all, it’s what we are saving for. All those are the things that make the move worth the emotional cost (which only I am paying, really). The catalyst for me moaning about all this is the fact that Mr B wants to bring the move forward (for the reasons set out above) so the five years that I thought I’d have to get used to the idea of moving have suddenly been condensed a little.
It has been useful to bash this out on the keyboard, as it is hard to get a chance to really talk to anyone about it, what with two tiddlers running about like lunatics wherever I go. Thank you for being the recipients of this catharsis. The thing is, I’m not going to let my fear of leaving swamp the chance we have to turn our lives into something we want. If life is nothing but a shout into the wind, we are going to make our shout count.
But still. I’ll miss my friends.
*Can’t be arsed: for those of you not familiar with tla’s**
**Three letter abbreviations.