We arrived at 2am on New Years Day. Moving countries is exhausting, as someone said ‘You do like a big move don’t you?
Well if you’re going to have an adventure you may as well make it a big one!
I have lots to write about, but right now I have to take the dogs out as we cannot let them run free. So I thought I would share with you photos from our ten minute walk to the beach yesterday….breathtaking
The beach, surrounded by snow topped mountains The Wild Atlantic WayWe’re going on this beach todayThe Walk Down To The BeachWe Are Surrounded By This Mountain View RD walking into the clouds Sunset On The Beach In Beautiful Donegal A Happy Man
I think it’s fair to say, I have a knack for finding a view! But that’s not hard on the beautiful emerald Isle.
Rosie
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The View From The Boat As We Docked In Rosslare Ireland
I have so much to blog about not least the journey to our current home in Donegal, Ireland (such a nightmare, but also funny if you have a sense of humour). But first I want to write about my dad, who was a big factor in how we ended up living in Ireland.
It’s taken me a while to write this because I wanted to pay homage to my dad, and every time I thought about what I was going to write my eyes would fill with tears; they are now, but here goes.
My Dad was Patrick Joseph Walsh, you couldn’t get a more Irish name than that! He was a Tipperary man, the youngest of a large Irish family. He lost his mother early when she was sent away due to a sanatorium for mental health issues.
My dad Paddy was a clever man, but education was not an automatic right in the forties in Ireland, and further education was not available to everyone. But despite that my dad won a scholarship to go on to further education, it was a huge prestigious opportunity. Sadly whilst the education was free the uniform and the books needed were not. Despite going cap in hand and asking for help nobody would fund my dad, so terribly disillusioned he left Ireland and set sail for England where he boarded in my nan’s boarding house, met my mum, and the rest they say is history.
When my Irish grandmother (who I never met) was sent away to a sanatorium it was my Auntie Maureen who became my dad’s surrogate mother and so whenever we visited Ireland it was Auntie Maureen that we went to. I still remember today her breakfasts of Irish herby sausages, eggs with the brightest yellow yolks, and her homemade soda bread. Of how she would listen to me (a small gobby child) with a half smile on her face, but she would always listen, a little bemused. Looking back now I realise that perhaps she could see my dad in me, and that is why she always listened. I was always full of ideas, the difference with my dad was that I was more confident than my dad and have always had the ability to not show that I cared what people thought. As I’ve got older I now just don’t care.
Sadly my dad never returned to live in Ireland. My mum wouldn’t go, she wanted to stay with people she knew, no matter how vile some of her family were to her and my dad.
One of my awful, ignorant arrogant uncles would call my dad stupid (let’s not forget he was a ‘Paddy’ after all!) you can probably tell I am not a fan of my mum’s family (with the exception of one aunt). I know now that was insecurity on the uncle’s part, because my dad could see through him, and knew he had more intelligence than the arrogant uncle would ever understand. Ever the ‘quiet man’ my dad said nothing, because he also knew that was the only way to deal with insecure idiots.
Looking back now there was my dad, highly intelligent having to put up with those arseholes, how he must have longed for ‘home’.
So on New Years Eve as the boat was docking in Ireland all those travelling with their dogs were asked to wait on the dog deck, and there we stood with the Welshies, watching as Ireland became a reality. As I stood with RD I could feel a lump rise in my throat and my eyes brimmed with tears, I felt such an overwhelming feeling that I had finally come home. RD looked at me and just got hold of my had, he knew.
It’s hard to explain that feeling, it was so totally unexpected. The last time I visited Ireland was in 1985, when my dad brought us all over for a family holiday. I knew it was beautiful, but I was too young to appreciate just how beautiful it really is.
As I stood on deck I found myself hoping that my dad was standing beside me, with a smile on his face, approving because finally a little piece of him had come home, in me.
This one’s for you Paddy.
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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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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Normally at this time of year I would be doing my favourite Christmas thing: decorating my Christmas tree. But this year we’re dismantling our lives, so this one from 2017 will have to do. I chose it because it was the first time our son Tom came to visit us in France, and it was truly a magical time.
Christmas 2019
For us now Christmas isn’t about material things, it’s about the people, the simplicity and the memories we make. This year the memories will be vastly different from all others.
Our First Christmas in France 2015
We are on a countdown now, and I am not going to lie it is a little bit frightening, and trust me I chose that word carefully; because as we dismantle we know that we will not have our own place for some time, and those little voices can kick in and start whispering the ‘what if’s’. Over the years of living here and reading philosophy, psychology and the Tao I have become a lot better in closing them down, and mantras have become my saviours.
RD has been working so we have a limited amount of days we can clear out the two ton (sometimes seems like more) of crap we have accumulated in our lives, which involves many trips to the dechetterie (dump). Add to that the fact that the dechetterie is only open three half days and one full day a week and it all becomes ever so slightly desperate!
So on Saturday we had no choice: dechetterie it was! But the weather has turned decidedly cold here, and on that dictated day we also had the pleasure of freezing rain and sleet to contend with. There we were, in our fleeces and waterproofs, putting metal here, plastic there, electrical goods somewhere else, wood in one container, dirty wood in another container, whilst contending with the driving sleet in our faces. Let me tell you it was a joy! Luckily we had the dechetterie controller ‘Stig’, as he likes to be known (a la ‘Stig Of The Dump’) to help us. By the time we got home with the rain and snow still driving into our faces and soaked through despite the waterproofs, snd we decided to call it a day.
RD cleared out the cellar weeks ago, but he isn’t as definitive as me when it comes to making decisions to let things go, and asked me for help. I knew this meant that he wanted me to go with him and boss him around. So yesterday I did just that and the cellar was sorted into a pile for the dechetterie (yep here we go again) and the rest was loaded into the van and taken to our friends, who have kindly let us store our worldly goods in their outbuildings. It was all done in an hour. I am very methodical with things like that.
So having said that I have to go to pack up some more, and sort out our paperwork, which will be complicated because I need to ensure we have the basics to start our new life in Ireland, on our initial trip, because the rest will have to remain here until we can collect it in a few months time. We cannot take it all, not with two Welsh Terriers, and two cats, and clothes, food, and so much more, the van can only carry so much.
But before I go the cold weather has provided us (because I know my readers like them too) with some fabulous sunrises and sunsets. Here are some to enjoy…
Rosie
French Sunrise from my garden December 2020French Sunset from my Garden December 2020
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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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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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Selling houses is stressful, there is no doubt about that. But more of that on future blogs. Just to say the Compromise de Vente (which means a commitment to sale) has finally been signed by our buyers, and we are due to sign next week. There will then be a ten day cooling off period for the buyers, fingers crossed it all goes well.
Due to the stresses it has been easy to forget that we only ever live in the here and now. So last week as RD and I sat in the garden in some bright autumn sunshine, I reminded him that we should make the most of our impromptu tea break because when we go to Ireland we are both going back to work, which means the time for impromptu tea breaks on any day will be gone. That we should treasure how much time we get to spend with the Welshies, because we won’t have as much time as this in the future.
Later in the week we lit our garden fire, and took two of our garden chairs to just ‘sit’ and watch the flames. We are both in the frame of mind that we just want to leave France now, but we should treasure the moments when we sit under some of our majestic oaks, with the dogs, and enjoy the peace and solitude that you can only find in nature.
Today we were invited to our lovely neighbours Manu and Lucie, for aperitif. We spent a couple of hours with them, playing drafts with the chess set we retrieved from our barn, a gift to our son many years ago and never touched. Trying to teach them,and us,chess with the language barrier was just too great! Their eight year old son loved it, and a relaxed fun couple of hours was had.
RD has been struggling with everything that’s been going on, but when we returned he said ‘that has really lifted me, today,’ I looked at him and said ‘That’s what I mean about living in the here and now, we give so much focusing on what we want in the future we fail to see what we have now. We let it go, and we stop enjoying it.’ RD looked at me and said ‘I understand.’
Happy Sunday folks
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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