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A tiny tale of moving house

Well, we finally did it. 

We first viewed our new home last July & after 7 months & 2 weeks, 1 fallen through sale, tons of swearing, countless sleepless nights & a shed-load of perseverance, we finally moved to the perfect place for us. At 11 at night. After I’d seriously underestimated the time it would take to pack up all the crap we’ve collected over the past 10 years! 

Thank everything for Graeme’s mate Pav, who was a one man removal machine - lifting whole settees with his bare hands whilst we both stood speechless, basking in the rays of his sheer moving house superhumanness!

We were delayed at our old house, so Pav drove a huge lorry load of our heavy stuff here, unloaded it all BY HIMSELF & then called to say that he struggled leaving our new home because he couldn’t take his eyes off the starry sky. Pickfords - get Pav running things quick. You’ll never regret it & that’s a promise! 

So, they say (not sure who ‘they’ are - but they do talk!) that moving house is one of the most stressful times. To be honest, none of that matters now. I can see the Tor in the distance from our front windows & from the back, a beautiful stretch of water with our own resident duck family nesting there - swimming, waddling & quacking away. And I can wave to Castle Cary. If I want to I mean. I haven’t, obviously. OK I have. Quite a few times.  So what? :) If you live there, wave back! 

Anyway, what I’ve realised a week on, is that nothing makes me happier than being woken up by the duck alarm chorus - going out to the garden at sunrise in my dressing gown, muddy wellies & woolly hat to scatter corn for them, whilst they chatter away at me. (We actually call them beakers. I know they’ve got bills, but the first morning they woke us up at stupid ‘o’ clock with their duck chatter, Graeme said, half asleep, “what’s all that beaking” - so it stuck). 

It’s only been a week, but what a week! I’m so happy to be a dressing-gowned welly-wearing Somersetter; to get a tear in my eye every time I drink in the beautiful views, spot a moorhen or fill up the bird feeders with fat balls & nuts!!  And I’m proud to live in such a stunning county, with so much great stuff out there just waiting to be discovered. 

What have you done to me Somerset? I’m a massive lump of emotion & wouldn’t have it any other way. For the first time in my life, I feel like I’ve properly found home & I’ll be treasuring that feeling (& getting that tear in my eye) for many years to come… if I’m very, very lucky. 


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