No news is good news.  Is that ‘all news is bad news’ or ‘the absence of news is good’?  I wondered this over breakfast the other day.

There comes a time in every girl’s life where you look at the gate, realise someone has left it open and go for freedom.  I did this last week.  We’re still here in The West.  As for the current state of ‘will you/won’t you move’ I’m tight-lipped, zipped, nada, if I so much as even sideways glance at any chance of a sale it vaporises in front of me. House viewers don’t even get so much as a warm smile (the agent comes too to save them from my bared teeth) if they can’t answer yes to
A) have you sold?
B) Are you even on the market?
C) Are you looking for a house with 2 double and one SINGLE bedroom? And
D) Did you read the particulars to realise we do not have a garage, we have a kitchen diner and there is no football pitch for your 6 children in the garden.

So I saw an open gate and escaped. Well, I actually saw a vacant week on an internet site and booked it, but metaphorically it felt like the open gate, and I was the tightly coiled spring.  I took husband, some arguments you just can’t be arsed to fight, and in fairness he needed a break from all the cack of selling a house, trying to keep everywhere spotless and still live like normal people. We started the first sale in the first week of July – 2018.  15 months ago. Oh god I am so tired of selling this house.

So off we went. We arrived in sunshine (remember that, we didn’t see much of it afterwards).  He saw stones in a field; we knew that field didn’t have stones.  Here are the stones

There are 4 of them, definitely a 3+1, the one being now named Roderick the Ram because 1845 did not seem much of a name to us. He’s in hiding, or usually 4 paces behind this lot. He’s young and not got a clue what he is supposed to do when he gets to the girls in the next field.  We watched one footed gestures that, frankly, wouldn’t impress any ewe.  He also hasn’t grasped that the other 3 are also rams and not his mummy, so sticking your nose under one does not get you a drink of milk – by heck he pulled a face over that surprise.  I said ‘quick, eat some grass to take the taste away’ and he did, so there’s one more in the eye for politicians who think animals aren’t sentient beings.

The cottage is part of a farm so we watched the sheep in the pens next door – they don’t seem to have come back from their ‘day trip to Blackpool’ , the cottage owner decided this was the easiest way to let this townie know they weren’t coming back.  I don’t eat lamb or mutton, in fact I eat very little meat but because I can’t eat a lot of vegetable proteins because of IBD, I have to get it somewhere.

The views from the cottage are spectacular, that’s as far as I need to go some days. On the few dry days we had I spent the evenings sitting in the garden with no sounds of the town to disturb.  We even had a firework display Saturday evening as there is a wedding venue up the road and being in the Dark Skies National Park, we stood out staring at the stars one evening.

And all good things must come to an end. I came home. I’m ready for my next adventure.  By that I don’t mean ‘adventures of the house selling kind’, for that I want plain old boring, dull, no excitement.

The saga continues.