That’s a picture of Jason, a hardy antipodean perennial showing his delight at finding warm mud in Swinley Forest. The joy of spring if you will**
That’s not what this is about though. Our buyers will be moving into this house in about four weeks. We have nowhere to move to. The option was to stay and lose the house sale or pack all our belongings in a cardboard box, and decamp to a bridge under the M4.
A compromise solution is a complex double move involving men with proper jobs sweatingly transferring most of our stuff into crates and a few much loved objects – including at least three MTB’s! – to a short term rental somewhere in Herefordshire. Assuming the legal issues ever get resolved before a) the kids leaving home or b) us running out of money to pay solicitors, we’re still keen to move to cabbage-land.
Failing that, we’ll be cash buyers with an ever decreasing time budget before the mortgage offer expires.
The bridge seems to offer a far simpler solution but apparently the kids have to go to school. And me to work. In Birmingham. Crikey.
Hopefully the local – and new to me – trails will be fast and dry when we finally rock up to our temporary home. Ian – I’m looking forward to a ride and a long chat about potential sites for the scorpion pit. I have about four sheets of closely written names who are deserving of a deadly spider experience.
* too easy to even ask the question. Ah I loved the Clash. But it was so long ago, I still had hair.
** Spring as in Springing in the air as in words linking to photo as in clever interplay between media. No, thought not.