Furniture at dawn

We have found the house – no arguments.

We have sold the house – no arguments.

We have discussed the mortgage deal – no arguments.

Now we are getting down to the minutiae of what furniture goes where…….

= lots of arguments.

I find that if you don’t start as you mean to go in then you gave had it. Over the years I have learned that the best way to get what you want in marriage is to adopt the first line of defence that is most commonly observed in the behaviour of small terrier dogs …..ATTACK! 

The message must be understood loud and clear by the male – NO THAT IS NOT OK WITH ME.

For example, hubby says……”I would like to take my office chair to the new house and have it our new open plan living area”…..

I instantly visualise this hideous scene where the living room is dominated by this massive black leather squashy chair that even Chandler from friends would turn his nose up at. It doesn’t even vibrate. If it was the last office chair on the planet I would demand a recount. 

This office chair has been consigned to the shed at the bottom of our garden – it’s current location gives you another clue as to why I don’t like it (😉)

So, there is no compromise, no ‘we’ll see’ and deal with it later – it’s me or the chair.

This is only one of the debates.

How you organise your house is, in my view, something that affects your day-to-day happiness. The last thing you want is the male in the relationship getting ideas that may lead it down the ‘batchelor look but with family in tow’ kind of look.

Over….my…….dead…….body.

Don’t even get me started on the curtains.

This blog is for UNICEF.

Thanks for reading. 

Relinquishing rural for road and rail

We have sold our house.

Why is it so easy to put a house on the market, but when it does sell, you suddenly become sentimental about it and start to mentally list the things you will miss.

My son was born in this house on a Wednesday evening, the same day as bell practice at the church on the end of our road. On his first night while he lay in his crib I listened to the bells ringing and fantasised they were ringing for him. Every Wednesday I get that musical reminder of the day he was born. I will miss that. 

My daughter’s welly boot footprint in the cement of the front drive, when she didn’t hear Daddy trying to stop her walking across the wet cement – I will miss that too. 

Hearing nothing but the dawn chorus, or a pin drop, the sunsets across fields, all things I will miss about being out in the sticks. 

But reality has hit home now our jobs have changed and we need to be closer to civilisation – roads and rail. 

This blog is for UNICEF. 

Thanks for reading. 

My favourite part of the day

Tonight when I put my daughter to bed she asked me “What was your favourite part of the day?” This is a question often posed to children but we rarely ask ourselves this question as adults. I was stumped. I really couldn’t think. Then it made me rather negatively reflect – did I actually enjoy any of it? My daughter was getting bored by my unnecessarily prolonged thinking time until I finally stumbled upon…..”the bit when I was sitting in your Auntie’s garden in the sun chatting to your Uncle.” It was a rare moment of relaxation. My other Sister-in-Law was entertaining my baby son, my daughter was playing with my younger niece, everyone was occupied enjoying rare family time and I was soaking up September rays in a South London garden having a relaxing grown-up chit-chat with my brother-in-law. The feeling of the sun on my skin was bliss. But that part of the day must have only taken up 5 minutes of my entire day if that.

The rest of the time was spent as follows: tidying up, welcoming visitors who were buying some bikes from us via Gumtree, changing nappies, preparing lunch, travelling to South London, stopping for fuel, trying to find my sister-in law’s new place, getting lost, checking the sat-nav, checking the smartphone, stopping a man in the street who gave us better directions than the sat nav and the smartphone, finding a place to park, eating lunch, drinking tea, eating cake, playing with kids in garden, feeding kids supper, doing a tour of the new house, saying our goodbyes, getting in the car, driving home etc etc! Its just a production line of processes – and on a Sunday too. So it dawned on me that, when you are a child, (lets assume you are enjoying a happy upbringing) favourite parts of the day are very deliberate and last at least half a day if not longer. When you are an adult, favourite parts of the day happen when you least expect it but often get lost because you are to bogged down in the toing and froing and the minutiae of adult day-to-day living.

So before I go to bed each night, I am going to try and remember my favourite part of the day. That way I hope to ensure life doesn’t just pass me by.

On the tour of my Sister-in-Law’s house I was struck by the vast number of rooms that existed for 3 of them plus one on its way. As we ascended the three storey house, and the inventory of bedrooms required and storage space for everyone was ticked off, the other rooms that were surplus to requirements were given excuses for their existence, my SIL said “and this is the ironing room” and true enough this vast room complete with a roof-top view of London featured an ironing board and iron ready for action. We weren’t shown their cellar…..I wonder why….(sorry have been reading too much of those Fifty Shades books!)

Thanks for reading my post – if you enjoyed it please visit my Unicef fundraising page – the whole reason why I am blogging every day of my life.