Well, we know how, really. Our income started to drop, we fiddled while Rome burned, and eventually our options narrowed down to this: stack supermarket shelves and stay here, or rent the house out and run away. The open road it is, then. But I do like to think we did it on purpose.
Righty-ho, on with the packing and cleaning and sorting out. There's a lot of it to do, and tenants, if you're reading this, I apologise in advance and hope you will find some use for all the things we couldn't flog at the car boot sale. You'll be able to make smoothies and cappuccinos to your hearts' content, soaking your toes in the vibrating foot spa as you wait for the alfalfa seeds to sprout in their special propagation tower. But you probably won't. We never did, and we actually paid good money for all this stuff.
My friend Michelle is moving house next week and is also in the middle of packing and cleaning. We've both found furry things under cupboards, but hers was an ostrich-feather fan and mine was a mouldy mug. Says it all really, but I'm not downhearted - maybe it's a sign that moving into a rattly old van and living on turnips for the foreseeable future is the right thing to do.
If it sounds like I'm scared, I am. But I don't mean to moan: Mr. S and I feel incredibly lucky to be able to do this, and although it's frightening to be packing up and leaving without really knowing where we're going, it's also very exciting. The worst thing is leaving our lovely friends. We will miss you very much, but want you to know that we will think of you often as we're forced to spend yet another day playing in the surf, exploring ancient towns, or strolling on verdant hillsides. Seriously, we really will miss you.
Big love from Mrs. S.
xxx
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