Nearly three years ago (in March next year) I wrote about our youngest cat Tilly, and how we had lost her. She went out one day, and never came back. We were heartbroken, and every time I drive past the woods in our lane I think of Tilly.
Last week we had all of the animals vaccinated, including the rabies jab. We smiled and chatted about our naughty black kitten, and how we wished we were taking her with us, despite the huge expense! We hoped she was with someone who loved her, or hadn’t suffered if she had left this mortal coil. We knew she had always been a free spirit, and naughty (which is why we love her so), and that there was a high likelihood that she would not live a long life.
Last night Tilly came back to our garden! Harley the Welshie was barking incessantly and wouldn’t come in, no matter what we did to persuade him. So poor old RD had to put his trainers on and trudge off up the chemin to the very farthest part of our garden where he found Harley who was clearly barking at something up the huge oak tree. When RD shone the torch there she was, Tinky Tiny Tilly, from Tinky Tiny Tilly Land. RD was adamant it was her, because she responded to her name and closed her eyes in love at him, and let out her little meow that only she could do. He grabbed Harley, and was frantically calling me. In the meantime I was going into the garden to look for him, he called me and I blindly made my way up the chemin in the pitch black, but Tilly was so spooked she ran off like a Jack Rabbit before I could get there.
There we stood in our jimby jamby’s and dressing gowns in the pouring of rain frantically calling her, whilst the dogs were locked indoors.
Daisy Pussy Upsy was Tilly’s bestest friend, and she joined us sniffing inquisitively up the tree, at the bottom of the tree, and at the part if the fence where Tilly had made her exit. She even went out again later looking for her.
I am convinced now it was Tilly, but what do we do? We leave this house a week on Sunday. Even if she had come back today it would be too late to take her to Ireland, she needs twenty-two days minimum before she can travel. We are in turmoil, we can’t stay, but the thought of leaving her behind is beyond our comprehension.
We have been searching for her today, but no sign; and are just about to go back out in the dark, when she must feel safer, to call her whilst the Welshies remain indoors. If we find her between now and when we leave we will get her jabbed and put her in the cattery to settle her, and RD will come back earlier than planned from Ireland to collect Tilly and our furniture. I have also asked our lovely immoblier and friend Aidan, if I can give him her passport, and if she turns up after we have left will he arrange for her to go into the cattery and get her jabbed. It’s all we can do.
We strongly believe that life will show us the way. For Tilly to come home now, as if to say don’t forget me, is surely a sign. Or was she just coming to say goodbye?
Come home Til Til ❤️🥲
Rosie
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Yesterday I booked our boat to Ireland. It’s no mean feat when your booking two Welsh terriers into heated dog lodges, arranging for two cats to remain safely and warmly in the van, and booking a cabin for yourselves for the eighteen and a half hour crossing!
It was weird because I felt very excited about going to Ireland, as did RD . But last night as we sat in our dismantled living room we both agreed that whilst excited we still felt a little sad. It’s part of the process folks, I have learned that now: part of the process of letting things go is to allow yourselves to feel the poignancy as one chapter of your life closes and another opens. We don’t always have to put our chins up and pretend that we’re not sad, or ignore our feelings and just look to the future (which we are incredibly excited about). I believe that we should allow that feeling of poignancy wash over us, and then keep going. Too many people try and have a ‘stiff upper lip’, when, really, they don’t need to. It’s just what it is.
Yesterday one of my best friends (thirty three years and counting) put a beautiful comment on my last post asking me to hug our house for her, because it had healed her at a time she needed it, just as it has healed us enough to go back into the ‘throng’. I have evolved from living here, so much so that I am ready to go back out there, albeit a different Rosie sometimes.
Making Our Home December 2015
Last night we took down my big decorative mirror that was one of the first things we hung above the fireplace. As RD carried it out he stopped and we both just looked at each other, remembering when we hung it in December 2015.
Moving on December 2020
As always life has shown me the way, you know how it does: like little pieces of jigsaw being placed like a path showing you where to go. (I have really learned to listen now.) We are juggling money, with each week mapped out as to what I have to pay. But when I spoke to the lovely lady at the cattery she doesn’t want the deposit until we arrive with the cats; and when I tried to pay for our accommodation in Ireland the money doesn’t come out until the 28th, freeing up enough money this week to book our boat. Moving from country to country is a complicated and expensive business. We were going to sail to Ireland on the 3rd of January 2021, but I couldn’t get the dogs booked into their dog lodges for that date, however I could get everything I needed for the 30th. Life clearly thought we should be starting the new year in a new country. So we will be as I write this we have twenty nine days left in France…….
Rosie
November Sunset From My French Home
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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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I am currently sitting in bed, it’s 11.45 in the morning and we have allowed ourselves a morning lie in. It’s a busy time.
We have a very atmospheric sky today, and the pictures above are what I can see from my vantage point as I write this.
I am surrounded by sleeping Welshies and RD snoring away, and after our scare last weekend I have again been reminded to only ever live in the here and now.
This will be our second move in six years. In fact in our twenty- two, almost twenty- three years of being together we have moved four times, this will be our fifth move.
Over the week as well as frantically taking as many photos of the fabulous sunsets we are blessed with, I have been packing up our belongings and I was making decisions about what to keep and what to let go. As part of this I was boxing up the shoes that we had, supposedly, decided we were taking with us, after letting so many pairs go; and as I did so I found myself putting additional pairs in the clothing bag for charity. In fact it was as if I was having an epiphany: you HAVE to let go of the old to make room for the new.
The shoes weren’t the only things that led to this. I have my son’s cot in the barn, he is thirty-one years old, why the hell did I ship it to France? I know why, we were moving to another country and for the first time I would not have my son near to me, that first Christmas without him being there was a hard lesson. But now it’s what it is, he has his life, and I want him to live it, and I have learned to let go of the idea that we always have to be together.
Then there is a blue top that belonged to my mum, it was her favourite top, she wore it often. After she died I kept it, and dutifully moved it three times. I thought when we came here I had let it go, but no, when I sorted our cupboard at the top of the stairs there it was again, buried in amongst all the clothes we have never worn in five years. I let it go this time, with all the other clothes. Only this time was different: this time I held it up and said to RD ‘This is not my mum, this is a top. My mum is in my memories.’
After that I was then on a roll: the fridge magnets we bought in Disney twenty- seven years ago (when I was married to my first husband ffs!) off they went to the great dechetterie (dump in French) in the sky. Sentimental mugs, faux flowers, old earrings, and watches and bracelets, tarnished, were in the bin before they knew it.
All of this got me thinking is life really just one big on-going lesson about learning to let go? Is life really just a lesson in learning about why we hold on to things which then enables us to let them go?
I understand why I bought so many things from our old house with me. I loved that house, I found it hard leave it, and so I bought the things I could from it, because it was too hard to let it all go at once. But as the years passed here I realised I didn’t want to re-create my past, that I need to make something new. My old house had gone, and I was then ready to let the things associated with it go too. There are some things I love that I will take with me because I love the item itself, or the memory it conjures up.
As I packed away my thoughts developed further and I found myself asking does that apply to everything in life? Including the loved ones we have lost? Someone once said to me ‘every time you cry about your mum, you pull her back, and you never let her spirit free.’ I found it difficult to understand at first, but after reading and learning and listening and reflecting it becomes clearer every day.
When my mum was dying she promised she would come back for each and every one of us, so when my beloved Westie dog died I thought I would feel my mum’s presence, and my heartbreak was even more compounded when I didn’t.
I understand now that it was never going to be, because we are all spirits learning what we need to learn in each lifetime, and we then move on to the next stage of our enlightenment. Perhaps those who love us stay near for a time, but eventually they have to let us go, to enable us to grow.
Then there are the friendships that come and go, and sometimes come back again after we have all learned and evolved. I believe the right people migrate back to you, as I have written about often. But more importantly how often does life show us that we need to let the relationships go? Show us, as we evolve, that they weren’t what we thought they were at all? That the people were not what we thought? Or, thinking even more deeply, perhaps they were, and it is us who have changed.
I think that is one of the hardest lessons of all, we don’t want to see negatives in those we have spent so much of our life with. But if we are able to objectively, it can enable us to decide whether to still have the person in our life or not, without rancour or pain. It’s just what it is.
Letting go of pain, letting go of hurt, just letting go without bitterness, is probably one of the hardest things to do. When RD left me I learned from writing my journal that if I allowed myself to be consumed in bitterness I would be destroyed. That was nearly fourteen years ago, now I use what I learned to help some others who find themselves where I was, but now I also know it applies to so many things in life. But I can only help ‘some’ because the others do not want to ‘let go.’ And so they continue to suffer in pain. That experience has taught me to let go of the hope that I could help everyone. I can’t, people can only ever help themselves.
I have learned over the past five years that we cannot have the sunny side of life all the time. The Tao has taught me that where there is good there is bad, where there is love there is heartache, where there is life there is death. I had to remind myself of that last week when Harley was ill, I had to say it as a mantra, and despite the pain I felt, it gave me comfort and strength and it has made me live every day this week cherishing every small moment.
It’s amazing isn’t it, what you learn as you unpack and pack your life up again? And the time will come, in the near future, when we let this house go, and this adventure go, and we ‘let go,of the rice.’ (Mark Nepo, The Book Of Awakening
Have a good Sunday folks.
Rosie
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It’s been coming for some time, life has been screaming at me for some time, but I got caught up on the hamster wheel of money.
I placed a cosmic order in August, explained how I do have faith, and that what you need will come, but explained how I was afraid; and I asked that I was shown what we needed would come. I was shown, but I didn’t stick to my part of the bargain and I went back. Life tapped me on the back, to remind me of our side of the bargain I felt guilty for reneging. It has shown me over and over again since I came back that we will get what we need. Why did I not believe? So yesterday I did, and changes were made.
Last night RD took a beer out from a Euros pack (special offer, because the Euros didn’t take place) and the first beer, second beer and third beer were for this country.
Do you think life is trying to tell us something? I think so….
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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How often do we all get caught up in the crap, and not see what is front of us? Right now, at this difficult time in the world I think it’s a good question to ask.
I am currently in a very difficult situation; people feel challenged, and behaviour reflects that, and I am caught up in twenty-four seven, as is the nature of my situation. Add to that not being able to go home, and not being able to see when I can go home, a d I started to get down. So this has been a test for me, where I have had to put into place all that I have learned, philosophically, over the past few years.
I am not going to lie, a week last Wednesday I could have cried.
But I reminded myself to see the positives: Another step closer to Ireland, and to not focus on the negatives. I wrote my journal, put some coping mechanisms into place (namaste) because I knew that the only person who was bringing me down was me! I have the skills to deal with this, and I knew that life was testing me to see exactly what I had learned.
I reminded myself that I could either let things get to me, or not. The only person who could control it was me!
So last night when I was talking to RD and he told me of someone who he had worked for who had taken a turn for the worse with regards to an ongoing illness (other ailments are available); and also of how France is now predicting a recession not seen since the second world war, I felt ashamed for moaning about my situation.
I have spoken often about the difficulties in people finding work in France, and most of those from the UK who work are self-employed, just as RD is, and live hand to mouth, just as we have been. Consequently there is no work for the builders, plumbers, handymen, gardeners, painters and decorators, and so on in the midst of the Covid-19 pandemic. What is often a difficult situation anyway is now a thousand times worse.
RD and I already knew how lucky we are that I have this job (and a big shout out to a close friend for helping me) but last night that really kicked in when RD said that someone had put on a Facebook site that they were down to their last two euro fifty, and asked if anyone could help.
We know that feeling, we know how hard it is. The person was not in our part of France or we would have given them some money. We have lots of debt to pay, and catching up to do, but even ten euro would help in a situation like that. Can you imagine not knowing how you will feed those you love?
I know some would think that they may have been conning people, but it was good to see many didn’t, and offered food parcels and help. At this difficult time surely we need to let the cynicism go, and just help in any small way.
More than anything the conversation helped me to focus: I am lucky, as always life sent me what I needed, and I can assure you I am not complaining now. Whatever is difficult for me I will be sucking up and getting in with it.
So now I urge others who are feeling down because of what’s going on, let’s think of all those struggling to eat, feed their children, or their animals, who are stuck in flats, or in an abusive relationship, who have mental health problems, those who are living in fear, lets not lose site of the bigger picture, and help others where we can. To just count our blessings and use that to keep ourselves going.
That’s not to say if you’re feeling low to not have a good bawl, breathe deeply, and get back to it.
My God I know I have.
Namaste
Rosie
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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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It is a place I sit often to write, manage our life, and just look at life; and this table holds many things I use: my journal, my diary, my iPad, my book, books I am reading, currently Mark Nepo ‘The Book of Awakenings’, and ‘The Road Less Travelled and Beyond’. It has become a little sanctuary to me, as I look out on my garden, often with a Welshie sitting opposite me.
I took the picture of my table last night because today is my birthday, and as I placed the flowers that RD had bought me on my table (where else would they go?!) with my cards, ready to open this morning, I realised how much this table encapsulates my life, and just how blessed I am.
I have no religion, or ‘God’. Perhaps my ‘God’ is life. I truly believe that life does show you the way, if you have faith. But as with all faiths sometimes it is hard to hold on to them. I will do another blog to show how life has shown us over this month to believe in it, and ourselves, but today I want to share a gift I was given by our client.
I have often written about the awful people we have worked for, but yesterday our client paid their bill and then gave us a tip on top! A tip that will enable us to buy wood for the rest of the winter. But it was not the actual tip that was the biggest gift, it was the fact that it reminded me that there are good and kind people out there. It bought tears to my eyes because of that, because of their kindness, and because it gave me a lesson, and it gave me faith.
I think I will chalk that up as one of the best gifts ever, along with my son turning up at Christmas: spiritual gifts not material ones.
Rosie
You can read our other story by clicking on the link at the top of the page.
Making This Better the book is now available including the journal entries for the first 5 years of our recovery & the whole 21 days of ‘The War’. Available internationally in paperback and ebook at Amazon and Barnes & Noble also available at Xlibris and Apple Books for iPad and Waterstones Bookstores for click & collect
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