A few years ago I wrote a series of blogs about counting my blessings over the Christmas period. It was as always a hard winter in France and Christmas was a very pared down affair, although that was, and will continue to be, a good thing in this house. The simplicity of our Christmas enabled me to see the small simple blessings like a cup of tea in the morning.
Fast forward to current times and Monday night just gone, as I lay in my new bed absolutely exhausted after sleeping on the floor for 2 nights. As I lay there I realised how blessed I was to have a bed, and my thoughts led me to think of how if I had to sleep on the floor for an indefinite amount of nights my health would definitely be affected. And I felt blessed, and I said thank you to ‘life’ for giving me the abilities and the tenacity to be in this position.
I found my eyes filling with tears when I thought of all the people sleeping on the floor, from older people to street children, and all those in-between, and I felt humbled.
Moisy
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It’s been a week since we started the move from our rental property to our new house, and what a week! Being the second time we have moved country we are used to the hard work and logistics that have to be put into place. The when you move country is you often have to move twice, once into a rental and then again into the home you buy.
RD and I were talking the other day about how we have basically been packing and unpacking in some form for seven months this time: Montaigu France – Gite in France- Rental Cottage in Ireland- New home.
But I’m not complaining because we have learned a lot from this part of the adventure, not least for me, because I have learned that whilst I think we need to do X life will show me we need to do Y, and this time I listen.
The start of decorating the bedroom
I was convinced we needed to decorate our bedroom before our bed came yesterday (that’s another story!) and bless RD he duly starting stripping the wall, but we had deliveries every day, on top of actually loading our van with stuff from the rental and driving it across the mountains to our new home, often through snowy wonderlands.
The oven in our new home looked as if it had something growing in it! Needless to say once the huge delivery of white goods arrived on Saturday that was a priority job for RD, along with fitting the washing machine and so much more: moving the fridge 4 times (women of the world will understand), putting the Hoover together, and the bed when it finally arrived, and the coffee table….
As well as decanting the boxes and boxes of stuff we have acquired and brought with us I have been busy ordering essentials, like crockery! Nearly all of our worldly goods are in France with no sign of when we can have them sent over, or collect them. But as most of them are going in the garage they’re not a priority for now, but it does mean we have to buy many essentialsall over again.
I have also been busy arranging rubbish collection (not automatic in Ireland, it’s collected by private companies) and arranging internet, and deliveries. To say we’re tired is an understatement.
The front gates and gate into the paddock had to be covered in wire to stop the Welshies getting out, that was our first job, carried out by RD on the first day we started the move in the snow and sleet. When we finally spent our first night here on Saturday, sleeping in the floor, we had been driving a total of 15 hours in round trips back to the rental. Add the final trip on Sunday when we went back to pick up our final bits and clean the cottage RD had wracked up 18 hours of driving and we still had another full van to unload. Followed by another night of sleeping on the floor!
I have limited internet, and hit and miss 4G on my phone, so pictures will be few for now, but I will do my best to keep you all in the mix. RD and I really feel that this little house is home, I think we all feel that.
Moisy
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We’re finally on the move. Our contract has been signed, the ten per cent deposit has been paid and we’re just waiting for all the dots on the I’s and crosses on the T’ until completion.In the meantime our vendor has allowed us to move into the house pending everything going through.
It’s exciting times, not least these two will finally have a garden, albeit small to start with, to run around in with no fear of other dogs.
Harley and Wiglet, our babies.
Eventually RD will open up the half acre paddock you can see on the side of the property. But that’s a little bit off for now. So far it’s been busy just getting what we need together to move in.
When we moved from France we came over with virtually nothing, all of our treasured belongings left in France in anticipation of moving them over. But sadly in this world we live in that has proved exceptionally difficult, what with tests, lockdowns, and isolation! Meaning we will move in without our stars, cherubs, and hearts, along with step ladders, and basic utensils for the kitchen which will need to be bought.
We have been busy buying: lamps, sparkly lights, rugs and sofas. Add to that all the basics you need like a fridge freezer, microwave, washing machine and it all begins to become quite scary, but also very exciting.
Our New Bedroom mmmm lots of work to do.
We have a beautiful super king size bed in France, but on Saturday we took on board ‘living in the here and now’, in that our bed is not here, and we need a bed now! We also finally accepted that our super king bed would never fit into our small bedroom, not unless we rip out the wardrobes which offer a huge amount of storage; it’s not feasible. So we bought a new king size bed, and the wardrobes are staying. Trust me when I say that the wardrobes are going to have the mother of all facelifts and the crystal doorknobs have already been ordered!
We will make room for the super king bed one day. I live in hope.
We had the conversation on Saturday about thinking realistically as to when we can retrieve our belongings, and how buying new things makes us realise we had still packed too much stuff to bring over to our new life. I think we may be letting even more things go.
The van is packed for its first three hour round trip to our house, including coal and logs so that we can light the fire when we get there. The oil has been ordered and should be delivered tomorrow, all good because the house has been unheated for at least two years, and it’s blowing a hooley with snow at the moment, so to say it’s cold is an understatement. Luckily we are not moving in until next Sunday hopefully it will be warm by then.
I wrote in 2015 that we had one more house left in us, now it looks like we have one more. #Excited.
Rosie
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RD and I are getting restless. Ever the home-makers after twelve weeks of living in our rental we want to move on into our own house and start to build our lives.
Now don’t get me wrong, I am grateful for this lovely little cottage we are renting. The landlord is so lovely, and the crofters around us have been so welcoming and friendly. But it’s not our home, and with our things still in France I have tried to make it as homely as possible buying some things we will need for our new house and using them here. I love our pretty crystal lights, currently on our bedside tables, but probably destined for our new living room.
Having always been a homebody there is of course nothing like a cushion or throw. The animals love them too…
Kittens on our day ed in Montaigu Wiglet in her old French Antique Cot, it didn’t make the move to Ireland.
Sadly most of my cushions are in France, and some didn’t make the move, so I brought some throws and cushions with us, as many as I could shove under the dogs without their heads touching the roof of the van! Knowing we will need some more I bought some from trusty Ikea, and I have made the living room as much our own as I could.
But it’s not home, no cherubs, no pretty curtains, no bed with crystals or little stars, no vintage French mirrors.
Home
As those that read my blog know the views here have been nothing but breathtaking, and we count our blessings for the opportunity to live here.
But before we moved here we used the lessons we had learnt: in not letting our hearts run away with us, and we drew up a list of our ‘idyll’ for where we wanted to live. With one of the biggest things being that we didn’t want to be in the middle of nowhere. We need to work, we want to work, we have realised that we don’t want to retire, yet, so we need to be nearer to where work is available. We also wanted to be near amenities, but still in the peace of the countryside; where we are now is literally at the tip of a little peninsula, surrounded by sea with a fifteen minute drive just to get out onto the main road, stunningly beautiful, but also remote. There is always a compromise.
All of that has served to re-enforce that we want to be near to a community, including shops, pubs (of course!) and a hub.
Carrickfin Beach and Donegal Airport.
Look at the picture above and you will see a small road on the right hugging the coastline, follow that road up into the outcrop and we currently live at the very end of that little outcrop on the left, literally right by the sea. You cannot even see the house we are so far out. It really is a spectacular place to be, and for a short stay or holiday I personally don’t think it could be beaten. But to get to any main town to work you have to drive almost an hour and a half up through the mountains, so it is impacting on finding work because once our current address is seen we would probably be excluded due to the journey. (Although I think that may be life trying to tell us something.)
Add to all of this that we are surrounded by houses on all sides, as is normal with crofts, it also means that there are other dogs all around us and Wiglet is constantly on a state of high alert. She had a bad start in life, put in a pound with other dogs who beat the crap out of her, so being able to see other dogs in our garden from all angles is her idea of a nightmare. We are stressed because she is stressed and we need to de-stress her.
Wiglet and her Wonky Smile
Poor Harley has constantly been on a lead when we take him out for nearly four months and we can see that he is depressed, which is hardly surprising given that he had the run of an acre of land in Montaigu
Harley, Waiting Patiently
So it’s time to move and things are on their way, more to come……
Rosie
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As I started to write this post the realisation came to me that I will actually see all the seasons in Ireland for the first time this year. It just seemed like a revelation, because we only visited in the summer when I was a child, therefore I never saw Ireland in any other guise.
I learned to really respect the seasons during my time in France. I wrote often of them, especially Spring and Autumn, with both seasons representing change: one welcomes life, one tries to teach us to understand death, and letting go. Life’s ever evolving pattern.
I am looking forward to what the seasons in Ireland will bring, having already experienced the Winter with it’s hooleys and snowy mountains! So many Irish people said how we needed to wrap up warm because of the cold winds, but we were used to them from living on our little house on the hill in Northern France for six years, the winter did not phase us, but the scenery blew us away…
Earrach …It is the first day of Spring today
Earrach means Spring in Gaelic, and there are three days considered to be the first day of Spring in Ireland, but in Ireland the one most consider the first day of Spring is the 1st of February. It’s known as Imbolc ( which means ‘in the belly’ referring to the pregnant ewes) in line with Gaelic tradition, and was a day to celebrate the end of a harsh winter and the coming of warmer weather, being the midway point between the Winter and Spring equinox, it was also the opportunity to rebuild stocks, and for milk to be available. It’s also known as St Brigid’s Day.
A Picture Depicting Brigid The Pagan Goddess
Now there are two schools of thought on this: Brigid was a pagan goddess whose pagan ceremony was held on the 1st of February, as she was also considered the patroness of early Spring. Then suddenly in medieval times, and quite fortuitously, a nun by the same name came along with all the same attributes of the goddess Brigid, how weird! And guess what? She was made a Saint, whose celebratory day was also the 1st of February. I don’t know, it seems to happen so often, how these Christian holidays and Saints day tie in with pagan ones. Must just be coincidence! Poor old pagan Goddess Brigid was elbowed out of the way and her day was given to a prioress who supposedly helped the poor. That’s not to diss St Brigid, she is now considered a patron saint of Ireland, and probably liked to have a good old knees up and a drink with St Patrick!
But that’s not the end of it, all is not lost the Irish still have a soft spot for Brigid the pagan goddess, and still make the pagan crosses to hang on their doors to welcome The goddess who would visit them on the first day of Spring.
The Pagan Cross of Brigid
Now, believing what you will, Spring in Ireland traditionally starts on the 1st of February for logical reasons: the days get longer, the weather starts to warm up (although when hail was sheeting down on us last week you wouldn’t have thought so!) and the flowers start to break through. In fact last week we watched in wonder, with tears in our eyes from laughter as the crofter tried to put two lambs in the field behind his house, he picked one up and carried it to the field, then he went back for the second as the first followed him back bleating it’s head off, bless him he must have done it at least five times until he got someone else to help him. If I can I am going to ask if I can see them, taking the chance that I may never eat lamb again if I do.
Over the last two weeks we have had hail, snow, rain (of course it’s Ireland!) and beautiful warm sunshine. They do say that March comes in like a lion and out like a lamb! With all this weather we have had some fabulous cloud phenomena over the mountains, it’s like seeing an ever changing painting, and we are loving it.
Mount Errigal with Levanter clouds around the bottom
There is nothing like warm Spring sunshine to give you hope, and despite all the madness in the world today nature goes on her way, doing what she needs to do, no lockdowns for her!
Our first St Patrick’s Day and Ireland is in lockdown! No pubs open, no parades, only virtual ones that RD is going to watch for the marching bands. That’s something I have never shared that RD was in a marching band until he was 27, he even travelled to the USA to compete, so that part of Ireland is really going to resonate with him. Me, it’s not my thing, but I will love the atmosphere when the parades take place next year (we’re going down the positive route now!)
But sadly this St Patricks Day is a subdued affair (or perhaps a celebration that is being held behind closed doors away from prying eyes for some.) It is a bank holiday here in Ireland, but as we heard the assistant in our local Cope yesterday they will be open because ‘sure what else is there for people to do?’ A classic Irish way to look at things! Who ever thought that supermarket shopping could be so exciting!
We’re just having a quiet day, we won’t be eating boiled ham and cabbage, the traditional Irish meal for Paddy’s day,, although I was brought up with it and have converted RD. But we will toast St Paddy, and wait until next year to fully celebrate then.
St Patrick’s Day is celebrated all over the world, including Japan, Turkey, Argentina, and many more, Montserrat even has a bank holiday to celebrate (who knew!) I think it’s the infectious enthusiasm of the Irish just spreads across the world. Or as I put it when RD asked me if there were Irish in Japan: ‘Of course there are, the Irish get everywhere!’ I realised then that I have followed that tradition, being Irish by descent, and have so far been in England, France and now back to the homeland. I understand that pull to return.
St Patrick was it appears a saint that liked to have a drink or two, he sounds like my kind of man. Folkelore says that when he went into the pub and ordered a drink the landlord served his drink in short measure and St Patrick was having none of it. He was the man who introduced Christianity to Ireland, but I think the Irish respect him because he came back to Ireland after being a child slave here, to bring ‘The Faith’ to the Irish. Although I’m not into religion I respect the man for that.
Happy St Patrick’s Day folks
Rosie
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There are thirty mountain ranges in Ireland, with glen’s running down through them. The word glen comes from the Irish and Scottish word ‘gleann’ and means a narrow valley, more often than not with water cascading down through it cutting through the rock as it goes. We are currently living near the Derryveagh Mountain range in Donegal. My understanding is that it is the Bluestack mountains that we will be able to see from the house we are hoping to buy, which is good news as far as I am concerned.
I have written before of my love of the glens. When I was a very young child we would visit Ireland on holiday, and whilst my dad helped his brother on his farm I would play with my cousins in the glen that run past the side of their farmland. There was a small stone bridge that straddled the freezing cold sparkling water as it ran down from the mountains to meet the sea, and we would all congregate under the bridge on warm sunny days catching tiddlers and then letting them go. It is one of my favourite memories of my holidays in Ireland.
The glen of Aherlow which run past my uncles farm
Ever since then I have always been fascinated with the beauty of the glens, as they catch the light and take it with them to the sea.
The last time I was in Ireland before moving here, was thirty-six years ago when my dad brought the whole family, including boyfriends of the time, to visit his family. I can remember walking up what I think were the Galtee Mountains and along the edge of the Glen of Aherlow; the further you walked up the mountain the bigger the glen was in places, sometimes a raging torrent angrily hurtling down the hills, as if it really didn’t want to leave it’s surroundings but compelled by some sort of magic to keep going anyway. The sun was shining and the glen was at it’s most magnificent, a watery jewel that only nature could create.
The glen of Aherlow in the mountains
My partner at the time had a terrible wound on his hand, he had caught it with a grinder and took layers of skin off and it just wouldn’t heal. My dad told him to place his hand in the freezing pure waters of the glen and hold it there. His hand was healed before the holiday was over.
My Beautiful Boy Harley
For those new to my blog, of which there seem to be quite a few so welcome, our Welshie Harley has always loved water, and especially the light that sparkles on it. There was never a moment of peace when our pool was in place for the summer, no laying in the water and relaxing because Harley would just be stood up beside the pool barking incessantly until you splashed him, and he would then chase the sparkling droplets all around the garden. It was the same with the hose, he just loved it.
Harley at the Pool Harley chasing sparkling water courtesy of daddy
It was one of the things that broke our heart when we took it down for the last time. But we comforted ourselves that he would love his life here.
Harley had a terrible health scare back in 2017 when he nearly died. Since then we have always been afraid that it would have affected him in other ways, add to that he is not getting any younger and it is always a worry.
Towards the end of last year we had another health scare with him, which resulted in me being in tears for a whole weekend until we decided to ‘wait and see’. But one of the things that I said at the time, through the tears was that I just wanted to get Harley to Ireland, and for him to see the beaches, and more importantly the glens, with their sparkling magical light that I knew my boy would love.
I was not wrong.
Although we have not been able to go into the mountains for walks due to the dreaded lockdown we have been able to experience some of the glens as they finally meet the sea; and Harley, like his mummy, has absolutely loved them.
We have visited a town near to us where the glen finally runs free into the sea, gurgling hysterically as it’s journey finally comes to fruition. Harley could not resist getting closer to take a look.
A few weeks ago we went to the long beach near to us, and there was a small glen trickling down to freedom, because we have not been able to get into the mountains we showed it to Harley, it was one of those moments that makes you smile.
I cannot wait until we can go into the mountains and my boy can finally stand in their healing waters. More to come on this subject.
Rosie
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Only recently someone said to me that ‘Yousure know how to find a view’. I thought of it the other day as I was pegging out my washing in the blustery winds and suddenly stopped and looked at this…
As I turned and found myself looking at this on the other side, It did just make me stop and think of that conversation.
But I was also reminded of a conversation I had last summer with an elderly lady that I cared for. She had the most amazing view from every room in the home she had lived in for over fifty years. When I commented on the view she said ‘Yes, it’s a view!’ I understood exactly what she meant, a view is a fleeting thing, something that holds you in awe for a time and then it becomes like the sideboard, something that you take for granted, something that you have seen over and over, it no longer makes you go ‘wow!’ Unless you stop at times, and look out and remind yourself of how lucky you are.
When we first moved to Montaigu in France the view across the valley literally took my breath away.
The Valley From My French Garden
I would stand at my washing line and look across this valley and remind myself ‘I live here!’ In the same way as I would look out of my bedroom window at the hay bales as summer drew to a close and marvel at the colours, and nature.
French Summers
As time moved on although we never really tired of the view I can’t say that we were ‘in awe’ any longer, not unless we made ourself stop, and count our blessings.
But every morning if I was up early enough to see the sunrise I would rush out in my jymbi jambes and slippers and take photos of the sunrise, because no two were ever the same, all truly breathtaking. We count that view as a blessing, something in our memories for the rest of our lives.
Sunrises in the Pays de Loire
Now I find myself here in Donegal Ireland, surrounded by mountain ranges and beaches, it is the most atmospheric place that I have ever lived.
As I walk to the beach the colours change over and over, as does the weather with the sun, wind and rain.
I think it will be impossible to become bored with this, but I also think that’s because we try to always focus on the here and now, never take anything for granted, and count our blessings. One of those is that I have a view, but is it in the perspective? Can we not see something beautiful wherever we are? I don’t know I think I’ve been blessed.
More to come.
Rosie
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The cold is here in Ireland, along with most of North West Europe, but so far we have had only a flurry of snow.
Today RD had an appointment and I was here with the puppies, meaning we walked down to the beach alone. Well apart from the little Jack Russell, who I have nicknamed Fannie Annie, who has decided that she wants to walk with us most days. Wiglet tried to bite her initially, as is normal for our insecure little dog, but Fannie Annie was far too fast for her and in the end our little fat-arsed Oompa Loompa gave up and called a truce.
Wiglet with Fanny Annie,, whose keeping a safe distance
There is nothing like walking in the biting wind, the kind that stings your face, to wake you up and invigorate you.
Winter On The Beach In Donegal
Nature really is a fabulous thing.
When we arrived on the beach the tide was out, and I found myself surrounded by stark winter colours everywhere.
With the dunes taking the brunt of the wind the beach felt calm and the sun was warm on my back, a timely reminder that despite this cold Spring is on its way.
Winter in Donegal
I count my blessings every day.
Rosie
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