Baby Steps

What do you do when you've run out of excuses to talk about something?  You start doing.

This coming weekend our gaggle of children will all be otherwise engaged in activities that involve different responsible adults and we are going to explore.  We're going to drive past houses, along roads, discuss the pros (and cons) of this village vs that town, the amenities as highlighted by estate agents.  And we're going bricks and mortar kicking.

The equivalent of wasting time over a weekend looking at cars you probably won't ever buy but on a significantly larger budget.

What can we afford?  What can't we afford?  I suppose, more to the point, what the hell do we want to afford.  And where.  So a merest selection of the some 1500 homes that are currently available in our chosen location are to be inspected and viewed.

Now, it's starting to feel real.  And also everso slightly unreal.  Isn't this the sort of thing you do when you're a grown up?

Home and away

I've been away for a holiday, out of the country and enjoying some summer that the UK now seems unable to deliver.  Most of the people we met were expats; used-to-be residents of this chilly island we call home who decided that enough was enough, packed up their goods and chattels and headed waaaay south.

Talking with them has helped me to accept that that moving away, even just a little way east where the family grows, is easily possible and achievable.  But then I consider the tales of the parents who haven't seen their families for weeks, months, years and, even though the view from their windows is truely something we'll probably never experience for more than the odd few weeks, is it enough to justify the life they're now living?  For some of them, when the sun is high, the sea is cool and the beer is cheap, probably. 

But perhaps for one or two others they know that their offspring may never truly thank or forgive them for making the move (because we all know how grateful offspring can be when the mood takes them).

I've been seeding the idea with the boys; what about if we loaded everything we own into a container and moved here to this warm and sunny island?  Noooo was the plaintiff cry.  For my youngest, the prospect of even moving to the next village is a thought too far, so how we're going to persuade him that 100 miles is a good plan, well, that's for another day.

Until them, I have the photos to remind me that even the impossible can become reality, one day.

The nearer we are, the further away we seem to be

It should be so incredibly exciting.  It should be the culmination of who knows how many thoughts, dreams and sleepless nights.  And yet it is utterly terrifying!

My mum once told me the answer to one of life's great questions:  How do you eat an elephant?  It is, as it happens, much easier than you think to eat an elephant.  A little bit a time.

The trouble with that as a concept is knowing where to start and how much you can chew on and swallow to qualify as a 'little bit'.

It should be easy, no?  Decide to move.  Find a house to move to.  Confirm that the local schools are good enough.  Make sure there's a suitable way of getting from the house to the schools.  And somewhere to buy bread and milk, get to a station, an airport, a main road, a cycle route, somewhere to walk the dog, somewhere the cats won't get run over the first time they stick a whisker out the front door.  Find out if there's a cinema closer than a week away.  Where will the kids ride their bikes/play in the park, meet up with their friends.  More importantly, sleep!

I can already feel the arguments brewing, the shouting matches about 'my room', 'your room', yes, no, no way, not a snowball in hell's chance.....

Today is not a positive 'up' day.  Today is a huge, insurmountable challenges day.  They will come and go in turn.  Hopefully when there's a big intrusive 'For Sale' board stuck outside our houses it will start to seem real and not a million more miles away than it already does.

Near The Beginning

It makes sense to start at the beginning although, if I'm being honest, this is probably nearer the middle, or at least the end of the start.  So perhaps I should just start and see where the meanderings and wanderings of the mind and the adventure take us?

I moved away from home about 20 years ago, starting on a quest to grow up, move on and head west.  I was swept along by boyfriend, husband, kids, houses and, more importantly of late, employment.

But I'm no spring chicken any more.  In the words and thoughts of some I'm a middle aged, over the hill aging lady.  And even if that's half true, I'm homesick like a child on their first sleep over or school trip from home.

I'm 100 miles or two hours (at best) from home and I feel the draw to be closer to my roots, to the place where I was born and raised.  That my parents are both still there, most of the time at least when they're not travelling hither and yon, helps.  They're not getting any younger faster than I'm not and have my feelings of parental responsibility turning on their head; as my own children grow into their own independence my parents seem to move into my realm of responsibility.

'Home' is the place I remember most fondly.  It's the safe place, the warm childhood memories place.  It's probably not any safer or cleaner or better equipped than where we live now but it feels like it and it's a place, an environment and an experience I want my own children to be able to enjoy (or endure as they're starting to think of it), a little classic Enid Blyton freedom that sub-urban conurbations just don't offer or allow.

The husband has been switched, over time, for a boyfriend who has his own charges of responsibiltiy and, despite them all calling this place 'home' is sold on the rural(ish - I'm not sure about making the full, middle of no-where move) idyl, even if it isn't always as idyllic as we'd like to imagine it might be.

So, with my own parents more than fully supportive, nay, force-feeding new properties to be admired and studied, it looks like we may be making the move to a rural commitment.  Two parents, four children, two cats, one dog and two households to be melded and moulded into one, in as fluid a movement as possible.

What do you reckon are the chances?