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The big furniture delivery to our new home in France

My intentions to blog earlier this month were unfortunately scuppered by developing a really bad case of la grippe (flu!), followed by my mandatory bout of bronchitis. As someone who had whooping cough as a child, I find most decent colds or flu go this way, I don’t know about anyone else…

Nonetheless, the last few weeks have been pivotal in our move – we received (most of) our items from the UK via our British delivery courier. No longer are we using the strange mid-90s furniture that we inherited when we bravely/crazily (delete as appropriate!) moved into our 1930’s traditional French home in the middle of January and the deep snow of the French winter.

Delivery Day

We’ve spent weeks unpacking, and still have a few boxes lurking in the kitchen while we work on our storage system. Right now we have four cupboards and very limited kitchen work surface, so my partner has identified some decent looking wood that the previous owner left in the top woodshed, and he’s brought it down to make some shelves. Hopefully once this – and a few more – are made we will be free of wading through cardboard to get to the dinner table!

Outside, the good weather has returned and with it my desire to get out in the garden. One of the highlights of our furniture delivery was the receipt of all of our plants. I was really upset on the day of the move – what seems a million years ago now, but in reality, was just December 2018 – because we didn’t have enough room to bring any plants whatsoever. Our lovely Bristol neighbours very kindly agreed to look after them for us until they could be collected by the courier, and so they joined our furniture in the big delivery. Last night over a glass of wine my fiancé and I pondered the new locations for our various plants. We’ve made some decisions and I’m sure I’ll be taking some pictures later on as they go into the ground and when they come into their own in flower in a few weeks. I’m really excited about that.

For now, I’m preparing to get out to the potager – well, to first create the potager, all we have at the moment is lawn. So I’ve pegged out the space that I’m going to use (thanks for all of your input on where to put our beds on my Instagram stories!) and will get the tiller out shortly to get that lovely french soil ready for use. Wish me luck!

Lx

 

We did it! Now we live in France (frugally!)

Even stranger to type!

We’re here, nestled in the Limousin countryside (or Haute Vienne as it’s now known) on this grey Christmas Eve watching films in front of the wood burner, both cats installed in their respective beds of choice.

But let’s go back to just over a week ago, to completion of the sale of our UK home. After sleeping on the floor of our bedroom (having put our beds into storage the day before) we rose knowing that this day would be the culmination of well over six months of effort and stress. The final packing of the car had to be done – including getting the cats into their travel crates and fitting in our last few bits.

Reader, it was horrible.

The big new/old car could not contain the massive amount of things we had hoped (the cat crates were huge, but with such a long journey they needed to be). The night before we had played an interesting game of Tetris with our various possessions and managed to get most in, however we were forced to concede that no plants whatsoever would be able to come with us, and bulky things like our duvet, pillows and blankets, the Hoover and a few boxes from the kitchen would have to stay with our lovely and generous neighbours (who’s house we have filled with stuff and we owe them dearly).

Once that had been attended to we were ready to go, at 8am on the dot. My partner drove the first UK leg and we managed to get to Folkestone for our channel crossing early. By noon we were onboard and enjoying the thrill of knowing that we would only be going one way this time.

Personally I’d never been on Le Shuttle before but it was a perfectly easy and quick experience, if at a pricey £154 for two adults, a car and two cats. We were soon out the other side and crucially, in France.

We stopped briefly for a quick espresso, then drove on to continue our journey. Around 10 hours of shared driving later having passed some gorgeous french countryside we were still driving but soon to arrive out our intended location: our rental gite for the next two months while the purchase of our house goes through.

And that’s where you find me now. Sat in front of the fire about to pour myself a Baileys and watching reruns of River Cottage.

Wishing you all a very Joyeux Noël and I shall have more updates in the next few weeks as we get really settled, and crucially complete the purchase on our french house!

Au revoir!

Laura x

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Moving from the UK to France – our final week as British residents

Well, that’s a strange thing to type.

By this time next week, I do hope that we shall be on our way to Folkstone to make our planned channel tunnel journey to France. Buying a one-way ticket felt like a big moment. It is a big moment. I’ve been talking to people on Instagram this week about the process and it is a weird feeling now that it all seems as though things are starting to come together.

For so long we were wrapped up in getting the house sold, choosing a house in France, sorting pet passports (!!) and the myriad of other tasks which needed to be correctly and meticulously resolved so that we can move. I think the delays to our exchange happening on the house in the UK became the most intense period of this process. As so much investment of time, energy, hope – and not least money – had already been sunk into working towards this outcome.

Now we are almost there, seven days to go. Our LeShuttle ticket is booked. We all have our passports ready (yes, even the cats). We’ve booked our storage and are working on an inventory. Work for me is over, my partner is finishing the last days of his role. It’s so weird. Brilliant, a relief, but also now a bit scary.

The only time I’ve ever had this feeling before has been in the run-up to my first marriage – where six weeks of intense planning resulted in a very stressful lead up to a brilliant party and overall fantastic day. I remember distinctly though that I didn’t really realise that I was getting married until I sat in the car with my dad, on the way to the ceremony. There has been so much to do, manage and set-up that my consciousness hadn’t had the chance to appreciate the gravity of the situation. I feel that now too.

Except for the fact that this time, I don’t feel fear. And I hope that is because this is the right thing to do for us. That we are going to make changes to our lifestyle so that the things that we currently don’t enjoy in the UK can be put down. And replaced by some of the things that we love in France. Also, it really feels like an adventure. And for me, this is probably the biggest, riskiest, most exciting thing that I have ever done.

So please do wish us luck. We haven’t even tried to see all the people that we love in the UK, and with airfare between Bristol and Limoges being as low as £5.99 with Ryanair for a single ticket, I don’t feel a sense of finality. I know that we will be back. Probably not for a few months while we sort things and move into the new place, but my hope is that this new life gives us both more time for us, for spending with the people that we care about, and for doing the things that are really important to us.

I may not blog again before we go, but I am working hard at becoming more active over on Instagram and started with my ramblings on Instagram stories this week. Do check them out if you’re a fan of inane waffle and predominantly unkempt hair… speaking of which, I just bought a beret because I’m a walking chiché and I couldn’t help myself.

So for now, au revoir!

Laura x

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