Well now the week I have been waiting for is finally upon us: we move on Friday and though I am up to my eyes in boxes and muddling through the packing up process all by myself because Ste is working such long hours, I am giddy with excitement and simply cannot wait to begin the process of making our new house a Brocante Home.
There are of course mixed emotions… some of me feels as though I am abandoning my Mum here in the bungalow. That she will be forever alone once we have packed the final boxes in to the van we have hired and I can’t seem to quite put this plainly silly idea to bed, though the rational me knows I carry her with me wherever I go. Finley is woeful about moving: flinging himself between crying and raging and accusing me of all manner of things from having stupid hands (?) to failing to provide him with the security of a permanent residence over the past three months between selling our little house and moving in to the next one! And Ste meanwhile is thoroughly non-plussed and though I have tried to instill the spirit of BrocanteHome in to him, he keeps reminding me that a house is just a house and it doesn’t matter where we live. Doesn’t he know I am Mistress of HOME IS ALL THAT MATTERS??
And so in-between stroking the head of a sad boy with a permanent tummy ache and sending Ste to the tip whenever he can spare half an hour, I am getting on with the business of packing everything from hangers to hammers, spending many an hour trying to decide which of Mum’s belongings need to cherished in our next home and which can be safely recycled – and indeed trying to make the whole business as puttery as possible…
To that end I have been making Ste simultaneously giggle and roll his eyes with my rather lovely “Moving House Box” which I am stuffing with all the teeny things I need to transform the shell of a (lovely) house into a place that feels like home and from a practical point of view (for I can be oh so very practical from time to time!) gathering all those fiddly little things I don’t want to hunting around for on moving day.
In my box? My favorite Amber Noir candles. A few bottles of Hyacinth Zoflora (the fragrance of home). A packet of good biscuits and some tea-bags. A picture hanging kit (For a reason I can’t explain pictures are a worry on my mind). A stack of new tea-towels. Some batteries. Our phone chargers. A new dish-brush. A gorgeous glass bottle full of sandalwood air fragrance. A bottle of peppermint oil in case I get flustered (because I am prone to fluster don’t you know?). A tiny notepad and pen. Two bars of my favorite orange coal tar soap. A bottle of Method Grapefruit surface cleaner. A bundle of microfibre cloths and a bottle of Kalms in case I accidentally smash my oh so precious terracotta bust of a girl wearing a bow tie and find myself throwing the kind of dicky fit even Finley couldn’t match.
So yes: I am almost ready. Today I am laundering all the bedding ready to be thrown on to the beds on the first night, placing a food shopping order for delivery the morning after we move in and spending lots and lots of time snuggling Alfie because I am going to miss him so very much but know he will be more than happy in the bedlam of Helen’s house with my Dad, the dogs and the boys.
Tomorrow the WiFi will be switched off here and sadly Sky have not yet confirmed when it will be switched on in the new house so service here at Brocantehome may yet again be intermittent for a while, but very, very soon order will hopefully be permanently restored and I will be able to blog my little heart out thereafter.
This m’dears feels to me like the end of one chapter and the start of a new, happier one. Life has been intensely difficult over the past years and I am so very ready to move forward and live the kind of life I have long been designing in my head.
Thank you as always for your ongoing support and dedication to me and to BrocanteHome. I truly cherish it. I will be back soon, refreshed, inspired and ready to create the kind of routines and rituals that will take Brocante in to all of it’s tomorrows.