Fourteen years in this house, nearly twenty in this small Southern french town . . .we've seen our boy turn into a young man here, welcomed numerous dogs into our lives, met wonderful people, walked wonderful walks, learned a language, made a whole garden, bought and sold lots of interesting old junk and cooked a million meals from the abundant regional foodstuffs . . . and it's time to try somewhere else.
The new house in the Loire Valley, about seven hours north of the old one.
Moving day was, as most peoples', chaotic, exhausting and emotional, but the removal people were incredible and we had extra help from an energetic and positive-minded friend so all was good - more than - great, in fact. A strange time for us as a family as Ezra (son) having just experienced the moving in is off again to start a new course in woodwork (mainly traditional roof construction) half way back down the country. Sitting at our ancient kitchen table which used to occupy the terrace in the Southern house, I feel a mixture of emotions: excitement at this whole new area of France to explore, sadness at the departure of our son - but happiness that he is doing something so useful for his future - angst at the amount of stuff to be sorted out, and that sight trepidation of having thrown ourselves again into a new region without knowing anyone. I will now sort a few more boxes and step out into the lanes of around here to investigate the very beautiful architecture, the much flatter landscape, the birds and beasts of the area and possibly a cake shop if I get that far.