Hello dear friends,
If you thought I'd dropped off the face of the earth you're half right, mentally I think I have. I have just moved house in rural Northumberland and house moves are always traumatic for me. this one in particular as it has involved two stages. First there was the delivery of three quarters of our worldly goods from storage, where they have been lying dormant for 18 months.Second, was arrival of the remaining day to day stuff from the rented house. When not unpacking boxes I have been lying down with a flannel over my face. The Husband has gone back to work for a rest.
"That's it!" I told the husband "we'd probably be better off with a gypsy caravan, lovely cushions with tassels, no more packing and unpacking for me, the open road, go where you please...Provence..mmmm" "Tricky for me to get to work, daily from France," he said interuprting "and any way, as soon as you needed a shower or to plug the hair drier in it would be straight to the local five star hotel."
The other snag with our rural idyll, is that it does not have Broadband and will not for another two weeks. I am typing this at the old house where I am letting the man into fix the alarm as it was making a wailing noise. No problem with the alarm when we lived here but now, sod's law, it has been very temperamental, going off the minute I turn my back on it.
Just to let you know I have an article in 'Living North' this month. It's in the supplement about getting older, more George Clooney that Victor Meldrew. I have written a piece (page 12) in which I make a few observations on the ageing process suitably called "Growing Old Disgracefully."
Man has now finished and alarm is fixed so I can return to my boxes. Hope to get more of "Pearls and Suitcase" done tonight. Hopefully be back shortly into the land of technology and will have news..
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