Well, it didn’t take too long in the grand scheme of things did it?  We have found a house that we are both happy with: me because it needs so little doing to it; my wife because it needs so much.  One way or another, should things go to plan, we will be calling it ‘home’ within a few months.  Meantime, I have only blind panic and mild hysteria (both mine) to deal with.  My world is quite suddenly filled with things to do and overloaded with things that must be done.  It is impossible to imagine that the world holds enough paper to accommodate all these forms.  Paperwork fills my days whilst my 3am walkabouts are dominated with hows and whatifs.  I know people who are happy to move home quite regularly – to be honest, I can’t think of anyone who has done it less than us – they must be mad.

I know what I am like: if I had a sphygmomanometer screwed into my head, I would probably blow its top off: I am The Flying Scotsman without the benefit of sleek good looks, I am the Marianas Trench without the dark mystery of unfathomable depths.  I am not built for stress.  I am built for chocolate.  I am not completely daft – in my own head at least – I have a good idea of what lies ahead: the weeks or months in the run-up to the move; the move itself; the weeks of readjustment to our new surroundings; the months of building work and adjustment of our new surroundings.  I labour under no allusions whatsoever that the coming months will be anything but painful.  If I wasn’t as old as I am, I would be looking forward to putting it all behind me, but at this age I really can’t afford to just toss time away.  There will be islands of joy, however remote, I am sure; there will be time to draw breath and – unless things run dangerously out-of-hand – we have the wherewithal to employ people to do all of the things of which I am not capable (eg almost all of it).  For now, we do what we have to do day by day and try not to get too far ahead of ourselves for fear that it all might yet – like a flat-pack kitchen – fall apart.  In truth, the new house (dv) was, for our different reasons, the first choice for both of us.  We saw it early and every other place was playing catch-up from then on.  If we love it as much in a year’s time then we have definitely won.  For now, we still have the results of the survey to sweat on, and my wife has ‘concerns’ about a tree in a neighbouring garden – if you know anyone who can tell us if it will grow big enough to throw our garden into permanent shade, if so, how long it will take and whether I am likely to be in an even more permanent shade of darkness before then, please let me know.

I have no intention – even if I had the mental acuity to do so – to turn this blog into some kind of helpful housebuyer’s guide – although, heaven knows, I might give it a go if it would ‘buy’ me a few more readers – and, unless something particularly untoward happens, I will return to the usual drivel just as soon as I manage to get some respite from form-filling duties.  My brain is currently numb from lack of sleep and the kind of logistical conundrums that can cause nought but total mental mayhem in the early morning hours.  Whenever I try to give the poor thing a few empty minutes in which to regroup its frazzled neurons, it merely coalesces around a million little uncertainties into a single knot of fevered apprehension which blocks all other thought like a bowlful of lard down a plughole and leaves me without a clue of how to break back in.

Next week is a whole new world and I am hoping it will be bathed in sunlight – much like the new garden which, according to the compass on my phone, will not be.  Do me a favour, just stick around and watch this space.  I really hope I will be with you…

I had to pull myself together, I had to be strong
So I waited for the postman and it wasn’t long… Whole New World – It Bites