I am never doing this again. That’s if we manage to do it now. Move house that is. According to solicitors/estate agents/self-taught experts, everything is going according to plan. According to us – the sky is about to fall.
I have deliberately not blogged because, believe it or not, the idea on here is to be fairly edifying or, failing that, at least keep the hysteria down to manageable levels. After all, life is full of genuine crises where people cannot put food on the table or are having their children snatched from them and put into camps and no-one likes a cry baby. BUT I am not a person full of perspective and clear thinking. Everyone told me that this was really stressful, and I didn’t believe them. I mean, surely, if you just keep going along steadily, it will all come good in the end. Yes? Ha!
Some of the stress I bring on myself. There is no need to act as if it is a personal affront when people question me on the possibility of damp. (There is some damp. The house was built in 1901. Every house on the road has the odd patch) When this happened I behaved as if someone is suggesting that the house is like a scene in The Creature from the Black Lagoon. I have, of course barely considered praying about it or anything like that. I have just read another book by Pete Greig about praying and he has talked again about bringing every small worry and thought to God because it is about the relationship in the end and God wants to be soaked in every bit of our lives and will never get bored and go away. I feel that if I came to him with every single worry/negative thought at the moment that I would test that theory to its absolute limit.
I’m trying to be nice to everyone obviously and Christian and serene and all “What Would Jesus Do?” but some people are pushing it. I’ll leave it there.
Anyway, I had some leave last week so we did various things for a bit of a break you know. We visited our children, went to IKEA (I know but it is MY stress relief and we went really early in the morning) and we took Aged Parent to Tavistock for the day. This was a wholly successful trip as far as she was concerned as it had the words Pannier Market in it. I have to be honest, most of the stuff there seems to be things that people have been trying to clear out of their attic since 1962 but to AP it was an Aladin’s Cave. I had to take some control – she really does have no need for shoes that are two sizes too big and I don’t care how many pairs of socks she will be wearing to “fill them out”. However, she bought a nice blouse (which we will never see again) and lots of DVDs because she likes a DVD in the evening. I tried to help her choose because she can get titles mixed up sometimes and also, she does like a thriller – especially quite tense ones. We went to see her at the weekend and asked if she had seen any of the films.
“Well yes, but your choice of The Girl on the Train was terrible.”
“I thought you would like it – it’s very tense.”
“Well yes it is but I don’t know if you know but it is also a VERY SEXY film and I wasn’t happy with that kind of thing and was quite surprised at you.“
(After having checked with Film Studies daughter am told that the film had its moments but was comparatively tame. Am now very concerned about exactly what film she was watching) It’s a trying time.