The final act of our French adventure has been played out, and we have our things home with us in Ireland. Because we really feel that Ireland is our final home.

RD had to go alone to France faced with the daunting task of sorting through our belongings and making decisions about what had to be left behind. I could not go due to Wiglet and Harley, with her illness and his elder years it was not fair to them to be left with strangers. In fact she hates change so much now that I don’t honestly know if she would have been here on our return.

I have written often in this blog how these adventures have taught me that life’s biggest lessons are about learning to accept change and about letting go. This final act from our French adventure was no exception. We said goodbye to the beautiful antique French buffet that we had in Montaigu, our 1860 antique dressing table and our rocking chairs. I had pictured myself sitting in them in our paddock looking across the views of The Sperrin Mountains, but they just took up too much room, and we had to let them go.

When I think of these things I will count my blessings that I was able to enjoy them for that short time. We have a new life now and we have to make room for the new that will come our way with it.

I was just pleased that they found a new loving home with the our friends who helped us so much during this stressful closing act, saving us from toxicity, and finally giving us peace of mind. I never once had to wake up and worry about what nasty little message would be sitting waiting for me, not in the whole nine months our belongings were with the lovely French man who stored them for us. When RD arrived the French man was welcoming from the start, offering him coffee and food through the two long days he was there. He was kind and welcoming, as we often found so many French people to be, not least our old neighbours, and wonderful friends Martigne and Michelle. We miss them so.

RD had only a short window of time, two and a half days, to sort through, make the decisions, load the van and get back on the boat home. With the ferry crossing taking eighteen hours from Dublin it meant that he was still gone the best part of six days, it really is a humungous journey. He had no time to visit our old French neighbours or friends, and no inclination to visit old haunts. It really is the time to finally let France go.

More to come

Rosie