I have had more than a few moments of panic, the “what the hell am I doing?” kind, this week. The house viewings have started. The dream and chit chat about moving to France might soon be a reality and I’ll actually have to do something with all the books, records, loft litter and furniture. And the dogs travel arrangements. For all my blog writing about how exciting the future is going to be, the reality is frankly more than a little scary. 23 years of memories and clutter are here within chez Knollys’ walls and whilst I really really am excited about moving, I’ve never done it on my own. For the first time in my 53 years, every decision is mine and so is the responsibility.
Yesterday 2 families with young toddler aged children viewed the house. It was oddly emotional seeing a new generation move from room to room. Flashbacks of bringing a tiny baby home from the hospital to a newly painted nursery, all the dogs that have wandered the garden, the crazy summer parties, the “how’s your day been” hugs. They are all here at chez Knollys. And now, for another family, it will be their turn to make this house their home for the next twenty years or so. It would be nice if they had a dog too.
Speaking of dogs, I really need to pull my finger out and get their travel requirements sorted. I rang the vets and left a message asking for the total cost of vaccinations in case I need to sell all the loft litter to afford such a task. Thankfully the pack are blissfully unaware of the impending relocation, can you imagine how impossible Arry and co. would be if they knew what an amazing life was ahead of them? I mean, they go crazy every morning when we get to the park! I wonder whether the idea that acres will be outside the back door will confuse them? And how does one extradite 10 dogs 750 plus miles? Someone suggested a camper van until I told them it wouldn’t be big enough. Luckily a friend said he’d love to help so that’s one tick in the box.
This journey of ‘going it alone’ is daunting, I can’t lie. Tony was always the organised one, I tend to bury my head in the sand until I can’t breathe. Yet it’s strangely liberating at the same time. Yes, I need to look for a flat for Callum to dump himself but that’s something we can do together, the rest is up to me. And 10 very ill-informed woofers…
“My husband and I are either going to buy a dog or have a child. We can’t decide whether to ruin our carpet or ruin our lives” (Rita Rudner)
Widow plus woofs 