Wednesday, 7 September 2011

Chapter One

Two weeks today we start our biggest adventure ever. We are moving to Cornwall. Is it really only four months ago that we took eight weeks off work to walk the South West coast path? It seems eons ago. It was while we were on the walk that our love of Cornwall crystalised into yearning.
That the people we met along the way could not have been more friendlier or kinder has been written by me on previous occasions. I am in the process of trying to turn that walk into a book so please watch this space.
Suffice to say that our experience then, plus our memories of holidays and visits here before, decided us to make every effort to move here permanently.
We got back to our Surrey hills and our little house on our council estate and we dreamed of moving west. The first thing to greet us as we drove back home was the sound of police sirens screaming as a patrol car hurtled up the road and away. Coincidence or not, but we never heard any at all whilst on the coast path in Cornwall.
The second thing to greet us were the sullen band of small children who were not to happy about having to stop playing in our front garden and leaving because we had returned. Scowling silent faces, registered  contempt as they left.
"I can play were I want." said the leader of the pack.
"Not in my garden you can't." I replied.
"It belongs to the council, not you." he spat back as they all moved off.
As they rounded the corner my last glimpse of them, was the all to familiar gestures being hurled in my direction that I would expect from certain adults, and am always still a little startled when issued by children aged under eight. Their language was earthy to say the least as well.
It is episode's such as these that can help and encourage your thoughts on leaving.
On the other side however, the obvious pleasure and delight of family and friends on our safe return, can encourage you to stay. With the familiar all around us, and with both of us back in the swing of things at work, for good or ill, thoughts of escape invariably take a back seat.
"Lets consider moving in three years when I retire at sixty."
That's my safe thought, my comfort zone thought, my sensible thought.
Then I see our children doing so much in their lives and enjoying what they are doing. Their argument has always been universal..."If we don't do it now Dad then tomorrow may be to late."
Little beggars the lot of them...because they're right. 
I look at contempories of mine; some have no longer got the health; some have lost the desire; some have lost the need; and other's didn't really want to in the first place. I understand all that I really do...but I'm not like that...I can't be. 
I've got an ear that only works at 20%; two eyes that only work with the aid of glasses; and a host of other useless bits that, if I was a car, would result in a failed mot. The kid's are right, tomorrow may be to late.
Fortunately for us though, Linda believes in the same thing as the kid's and will not wait for tomorrow.
"I agree with them Mully," she said after I had mentioned it, "If we don't do it now then we never will. I want us to have the chance. I want us to have our dreams. I think now is the time."
We started making enquires and we started planning. In our house we have discovered a relatively painless way of doing this and it seems to work. Linda makes lists and moves mountains while never allowing the grass to grow under her feet. She is a human hurricane and makes things happen. I firmly believe she is touched by the gods. She will do great things, but only in her own way. 
I make comments, and move molehills while allowing whole prairies of grass to grow under my feet. I am a human breeze and lets things happen. I firmly believe I am laughed at by the gods. I will do great things too...just in a different way.
Put us both together though...and incredible thing's happen.
Both of us are great believers in fate, and we both firmly believe that what will be, will be. That's why neither of us was the least bit surprised when the e-mail came. 
It changed our lives. 

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