I've felt at a real crossroads this week. In an almost entirely good way. Having been frustrated at the pace of change, I decided that it wasn't worth ulcer-ising ones self over things that were almost impossible to influence any more than I currently am. I hate having my photo taken and it's never a good outcome but to mark this moment in history I got a friend to take some. I want to be able to look back at them and say "that was the moment aged 39.5 that you deliberately through everything that was beautifully fixed and working up into the air. You stretched your relationship and tested your resilience to new heights. Nutter"
I do feel caught in an emotional air lock if I am honest. Not quite finished old job, not quite started new life... contracts signed on French house, showing people around the UK house.
On the last point, David Mees has tried hard for 12 years to get me to pick up my undergarments instead of stepping out of them somewhere convenient. He's failed. Having strangers wandering around our home has done the trick...in fact dogs and David Mees are terrified of me when I get into "scented candle mode"...it's what happens when Christine calls to say "Good news! I have a viewing for you"... I charge around lighting the candles (Jungle Jasmine - sounds like a female porn star but never mind) and shoving things randomly under beds and into cupboards. So far this exercise has lost us a set of car keys, an ipod and a dog lead. All to be found when we move out but I am missing "30 disco classics for driving"
The French contract is on it's way to us, we then send them some money and wait 8 weeks then it's ours! I felt I needed to put some karma in the karma bank account for our good luck this week. An opportunity presented itself when rescuing an Alsation called Louie who'd escaped from his home. He was a failed police dog - he'd failed the biting test, fairly evident when he wanted to sit on my knee and love me as I tried to drive him home.
Friday night took us to a dinner party of 10... we met a fantastic guy, pushing 60 who ten years ago bought a house in France. We swapped notes on the experience especially dealing with the French legal system. He recounted taking Carrefour bags full of money to the notaire. I rather hope we can use electronic banking or certainly better bags. At the end he looked sadly at me and said "It was the most stupid thing I've ever done" - my heart sank into the profiteroles and I must have worn it on my sleeve. He smiled, leant over and touched my hand. "selling it again dear boy, selling it again. I should have kept it and moved there"
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