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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I often write this blog on a Sunday morning/afternoon as we sit in bed having our fourth cup of tea, snuggling with the Welshies. It is one of our treasured moments, a simple thing, counting our blessings.
We have been mega busy dismantling our home, and today will be the last Sunday that we will have the opportunity to do this in this home. The weather has lent itself kindly to us doing this given that the rain is pouring down, and every now and then a spurt of wind whips around this hose on the hill.
Once I get up my sparkling lights will be taken down, and off the bed.
Our Bedroom, a place of sanctuary
The 1860’s French dressing table will be emptied, ready for the remainder of our furniture to be moved on Tuesday.
Our Antique French Dressing Table lovingly painted by me.
This bedroom will no longer feel like ours, and this time next week we will be moving to a gite in anticipation of handing the keys to our house over the week after.
One of the lessons we have learned as part of this adventure is that we make our homes, it is RD and I who create them, and make them into places where people like to come, because they are welcomed.
I know I will create a new one, in some ways I am looking forward to it, but I started this blog all those years ago to encourage people to step outside of their comfort zones, to broaden their horizons, and to not be afraid of doing so. So I am writing about this move because yes, it is scary, yes it is poignant, yes you can recreate again, but yes you should live in each moment.
I asked RD the other day if he felt afraid, he said ‘Yes’.
Despite it all we know we are doing the right thing. Life has showed us that over and over. But right now we are procrastinating, or perhaps just treasuring this moment because we know it will never come again.
Rosie
December Sunset Montaigu Ambrieres les vallees 2020
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It’s official: we hand the keys over to the new owners of our house just before Christmas .
So Christmas as we know it is cancelled this year, no decorations (the one thing I love about Christmas). But there is a chance our son will come to visit with his friend so we will all be in a gite together, and it will be a an alternative Christmas, which will be good, not least because it will be different.
One of our lessons from living here has been to to simplify, to realise that we don’t need ‘stuff’ we just need good people around us. I read the linked post before I linked it, and it made me cry.
I have changed so much from this adventure, isn’t that what stepping outside of your comfort zone is about, to change and evolve?
So it’s busy, busy, busy. Rich is working I am packing up, and the poor animals are stressed to the max.
A new day is dawning…
Rosie
Today’s sunrise no wonder this house healed me …
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Anyone who follows this blog knows that I have always loved the sunrises over the valley. I have shared them often with you, the photo above is todays sunrise and I promised more in one of my recent posts, I hadn’t forgotten.
At this time of year the winds can whip up quickly in the valleys, but despite their ferocity at times I have always loved laying in bed with my beloved husband and Welshies and listen to them whooshing around the house. and more than anything I love to hear the rain hitting the drawn down shutters. I lay in bed with all my blessings around me and I listen to that rain and I feel safe, and blessed to have shelter. It is a small thing to some, but living here listening to that calming sound has made me understand that it’s not a small thing, it’s the thing that people search for: a home, safety, love.
This week we were reminded again, to live in the here and now. Harley has been a little off colour over the past few weeks, and I noticed he was drinking more, and he had some accidents in the house. On Friday he literally wet himself in front of us, so I took him to the vet on Saturday morning. The outcome was that they wanted to test him for ‘Cushings’ disease. Of course I had already looked up possibilities of what could be wrong with him, and I knew that this possible outcome was not good. Harley is nine now, and I want him to live forever (tears in my eyes now.)
We booked the test for today, and we cried all day on Saturday, and I just kept saying my mantra ‘here and now, here and now’ over and over again.
I joined numerous Facebook groups to ask for advice. The outpouring of support from those sites, and our wonder Welsh Terrier Fan Club site was overwhelming. In these difficult times it was a joy to know that people are still good people, it appears thats especially where our beloved animals are concerned.
Our vet is a lovely vet, but he is an agricultural vet primarily and after much discussion, taking into account that many people who have had to deal with this disease advised to have his urine tested in a lab and a culture grown, that we are moving to Ireland in ten weeks approx, the complexity of dealing with the disease (if he has it) and the complexity of diagnosis (get it wrong and give him the meds with terrible side effects and it could kill him), and that he would have to be monitored we decided not to go ahead with the test. We feel that for now we have made the right choice. It would appear that Harley does too, as he has stopped drinking as much and has perked right up.
So that will be something to keep my eye on, because we have approximately forty days before we have to leave this house, and there is still so much to do.
A bientot.
Rosie
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Autumn has never enthralled me more than since moving here. I have written about it So often.
Autumn is a time for letting go, and no more so than this year.
So last Sunday, before I returned to work for what I thought was going to be a long stint, I realised that when I returned home in October the evenings would be dark, and the opportunity to sit in my garden on these warm autumn evenings would be passed; that this would be the final weekend evening ever when I could savour my garden as she began her preparation to move from summer to autumn. Because all things are changing.
It has been incredibly warm here for September, with the temperature in the early thirties most days, so as the sun went down RD and I decided to take a walk around our garden, and savour what we have, at times, taken for granted.
Off we went up the chemin (ooh matron!) that divides our main garden from our field behind our barn, as the sun started to set. Needless to say the Welshies were with us, excited that mummy and daddy were walking around the garden with them, as if they wanted to show us all the things we might miss. Like the crab apples, and Cobb nuts, crunching beneath our feet.
And not put off by Welshies at all decided to join us on our walk. She is fondly known as ‘cat Dog’.
Up she came behind us, stalking the serial killer known as Wiglet (she is a Bond villain after all!) not put off my Wiglet’s penchant for killing small things, because Daisy is a bit of an oompa loompa!
As we walked on to the field behind our barn, with its newly repaired roof (the boy done good) the sun set reflected onto the old building, built in 1812, it shimmered in the sunlight, as if knowing that yet again it was being left behind. That building must have so many stories to tell. We are going to become part of it’s history now.
As we stood taking in the sunset RD reminded me of the fabulous view from just over the horizon of the field behind us. In five years I had still not walked down to see it. I will make a note to do that when I get home.
I looked at all my beautiful animals, and was reminded of just how much they love us.
I savoured the sunshine, and thought of all those beautiful creatures who we have lost in the last five years, poignant memories, the kind that make you smile with tears in your eyes. Autumn reminded me, as always, of the things we take for granted.
I realised then that I rarely show you the view from this side of our garden, or the sun setting from this angle. So time to share this walk with you, with all who have followed this adventure with me. From the fields surrounding us, to the old statuesque oaks, standing so tall in our garden. They will give someone else shelter next year.
I miss my home….
Rosie
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I go back to work tomorrow. I will probably be away from home again for three weeks. But I am enjoying my job, not just the money it brings, but the freedom, and also that it gives me back a sense of identity.
For the first two weeks the temperatures were over thirty degrees here. So we jinxed it: we put the pool up, and five days later it started to rain and has rained pretty much every day here since! Not just rained, but poured. Our ground is saturated ai think if we got the lawn mower out it would sink!
But on one of the hot, sun dodging, days RD and I were sitting in the garden chatting and I could see him just smiling at me. When I asked him why he said it had been a long while since he had seen me so animated about something. I realised he was right. I have missed working, I have missed interacting with other people, I have missed having responsibility. Since starting my job I have deliberately tried to stay out of any politics, and the beauty of this jib is that I have responsibility only for myself to do a good job, and nobody else. I like that.
What all this made me realise was just how much I enjoy working, I enjoy meeting people, and I don’t want to go back to not having that. Ireland will also offer me more work opportunities, (again it can’t offer me any less than here) and I can continue in my current role if I want to. Those are decisions to be made at a later date.
But it also made me think about just how much RD misses that. He doesn’t miss working for most of the people here, but he does miss camaraderie and ‘the crack.’ As winter draws in and I am not here it will miss that more, although he puts on a brave face and insists he won’t.
I have always said I will be honest and now is the time to say that although we all think we want out of the ‘rat race’ do we? Or do we want to dip a toe in every now and then?
We have achieved a lot, sorted out furniture in many rooms, ready for sale, and I have finally sorted right through our filing and admin. Didn’t quite achieve getting all of the ironing done though.
I have enjoyed by five weeks at home, but now I am getting bored with what we have here and I am ready to go back. I will miss my RD and my puppies and kittens, that is the hardest thing. But once I am there I will crack on.
I am back on Boaty McBoatface tomorrow, hopefully I won’t have to climb down the ladder!
Rosie
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The sea is the most beautiful turquoise blue today, and this view never ceases to take my breath away. I have made new friends, despite being at work; and I have giggled every day. Drunk more hot chocolates than I normally would, seen nearly every beautiful beach in Jersey. But I am not home, and in the words of Neil Diamond from the fabulous song ‘Heartlight’: ‘
‘Cause everyone needs a place And home’s the most excellent place of all’
Thirteen years ago Rich sang that song, and he cried as he struggled with where we were at that time. I have loved that song ever since.
I am sitting in my bedroom and the spring sunshine is streaming in, something to warm the soul.
Since arriving home from work the thing that has been the most soothing for me is the silence. Calming, thought provoking, thought soothing silence.
I can hear the wind blowing on this blustery day, I can hear the birds tweeting, I can hear my Welshies snoring, as they snuggle up beside me in bed, I can hear the clock ticking, and they all add to the sense of calm the silence brings. but I can hear nothing else: no traffic, no sirens, no motorbikes, no cars revving, no buses…..
The first thing that hit me on my return to the little part of the UK that it turns out is actually it’s own little country, being only five miles by nine, was the traffic. The permanent constant hum twenty-four hours a day; punctuated only by louder revs, the hiss of brakes, and sirens. It shocked me, I have been away from that for five years.
On arriving home the first thing that embraced me was the silence, and I welcomed it.
When we search for our new home the level of noise will have to be considered, that’s now on the list.
Rosie
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I have been away from home for nearly two weeks as I write this, with still no internet as it is not available where I am. When I post this I will be, no doubt, sitting in the terminal waiting to board my boat home.
There will be a series of these posts about life’s lessons because it is clear that I will learn many lessons on this stage of my adventure. But this one is about what I have missed with regard to England and what I have missed with regards to France.
I have not been back to the UK for nearly five years, and whilst I am not on the mainland, the first thing that hit me when I got here was the noise of the traffic. In fact just the traffic.
Whilst I know that returning to England is an unlikely option for me I have missed the food: crumpets, hot buttered crumpets, sometimes with a poached egg on top. Part of my job has been to encourage someone to eat, and adding little things like that to the menu has been a joy. I have missed coleslaw! The French make coleslaw but I don’t like it, and one of the first things I had was a ham sandwich and coleslaw, creamy, thick cut slaw. I will taking some home with me, along with crumpets, tea bags and two thick juicy sirloin steaks. Beef in France is not hung for days, as it is in England, and we have had only one filet steak since we have lived there, because we find it too tough. So on Sunday we will be having steak, with mushrooms cooked in butter with lashings of black pepper and boy am I looking forward to that meal with my lovely husband.
But it is not really about the food, it’s the language, I have missed being able to go into a shop and not have to think about what I am going to say beforehand and rehearse it in my head. To just speak to people in your mother tongue is something to be treasured, take it from me. I have missed that simplicity of life.
What have I missed about France? I have missed my husband, dogs, and cats most of all, and I know RD would understand when I say, not necessarily in that order. Time with our animals is short, and I can speak to RD on the phone, but I do feel as if I am wasting precious hours, minutes and seconds of the time I will have with the dogs and cats.
I have missed cooking in my home, I didn’t know just how much I enjoy cooking until now. But my hope is I can set up a career in Ireland selling hot street food, and doing something that I love. But that is all I have missed. I have missed my house and my beautiful bedroom, and I will treasure the peace and tranquility when I get home. I have missed the birds in the trees, but I have not missed,the evil ex-pats, or the bloody bureaucracy : although I have so much to sort out when I get home, and the more it piles in the more my decision, our decision to move on stands fast. My mind is set now.
More to come.
Rosie
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We are going to move, our mind has been made up. But more of that in a other post. Because of that we are savouring our moments in our house.
Today France has been lashed by storm Ciara, and the winds are getting stronger, with the rain sleeting down. We have embraced the French culture of doing nothing on a Sunday. Last week we sat in our wingback chairs in our picture window reading blogs and Mark Nepo, so RD, after a week of hard work, asked could we do the same.
So here we are with the cats (this one is Diddies) watching the storm go by, and cherishing our time here.
Taking each and every day.
Rosie
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We are going to move, our mind has been made up. But more of that in a other post. Because of that we are savouring our moments in our house.
