Saturday, 24 September 2011

New home, new beginnings

Moving house is undeniably hard. Dealing with the seller, the purchaser (love the chain system that is so successful in England), the solicitors and the estate agents is nothing but fun, fun, fun. But, after the contracts are signed, the removal people have gone and you've made your first cup of tea, apparently the real work begins. And I haven't done this with children before (Mr. Martini doesn't count), so I was totally unprepared for how difficult it would be to  unpack and organise stuff. On that note, where did all this stuff come from? How come we all ready fill a four bedroom house, complete with loft and garage, when we came from a three bedroom flat with no storage? How does that work? Maybe the removals people accidentally unloaded an extra truck at our house? We wouldn't know, because I haven't got to the end of the boxes yet.


Living in the provinces is turning out to be quite fun. Admittedly, the commute isn't exactly a dream (I think I can walk faster than a good number of South West trains) but the lifestyle  more than compensates. We have a ten foot trampoline (courtesy of Martini grandparents on the US side) in the garden for goodness sake. Who could ask for more? Certainly not elder Martini, who plays on it everyday. I think he'd sleep out there if he could. 


There is more to write, but unfortunately the Martini children are in the process of killing each other over a jigsaw puzzle. I will return.