There had been rumours for some time that the firm Giles worked for was going to be sold, but as with all office gossip, it was discussed and ultimately dismissed. However, it soon became clear that this story wasn’t going to go away and within weeks, Giles delivered the news that the firm was definitely being sold. At that point we were pretty sure that everything would be fine, but again, as time progressed, Giles’ future looked increasingly uncertain. It was at this point we sat down and took stock of our lives, what was working, what wasn’t, how we saw our future developing. We suddenly realised that fate had actually done us a favour, she had encouraged as to examine the positives and negatives of our life in Caistor and gifted us an opportunity.
For years, we had skirted around the idea of moving overseas, and then, once Coco Shambhala was built, moving to Goa. But life, as they say, got in the way of our plans – babies arrived in quick succession, I left my job to take a new position at a prestigious local school, Holly started secondary school … you get the drift !!!
So here we were, stood on the edge of a cliff, wondering whether to take a leap of faith or stay put. Countless late night discussions ensued, weighing up the cost, financially and emotionally, of moving to Goa. It wasn’t easy. It’s fine to have these ‘wouldn’t it be lovely if …’ conversations, especially after a few glasses of vino, but the reality is much harder than you ever think it is going to be. You feel the elastic ties of family and friends being stretched to breaking point, you acknowledge that the job you dreamed about is going to have to be sacrificed, you realise all that furniture you have so lovingly collected over the course of a marriage isn’t going to travel with you and worse, neither is a member of your family – our dog, Ellie.
Even as I write this I have tears in my eyes, I could give up clothes, furniture, my house but saying goodbye to our dog was awful, truly, truly awful. We spoke to vets, obtained advice from every person we could think of before making the decision to leave Ellie behind. Family and friends had personal commitments, so although they would have loved to help, for whatever reason they couldn’t. Basically, Ellie was an old dog, she was (and is) ageing gracefully, but the journey out here and climate would not have been kind to her. Luckily, we found a wonderful woman to look after her but it was so hard. Holly and I were dreading the day when Wendy would come to pick her up, many tears had been shed before the hour came. I knelt on the floor, cradled her scruffy little brown face and told her to be good. She looked at me with the same bemused expression she usually wore, wagged her tail and trotted to the door. By now, Holly and I were clutching each other and sobbing like something out of ‘Titanic’. As Wendy opened the car door, my heart broke. I desperately wanted to call her back, say that we were taking her, this was a mistake, anything to stop the pain that we were feeling. Ellie, the little bugger, jumped into the convertible, wagging her tail and zoomed off into the distance without a backward glance!!! I think that the convertible had sold it to Ellie, finally she was going to be treated like the princess she was instead of a member of a madcap family.
With Ellie gone, the house felt emptier. The imminent arrival of the container meant that the majority of our belongings were packed, discarded or given away. Suddenly, it wasn’t so much a home as the space we lived in. The ‘For Sale’ sign had gone up and things began moving at breakneck speed.
Funnily enough, I was very pragmatic about the whole thing until the day before the container arrived. Our hero and one of my best friends ever Joolz had popped in to see us, and, thank God, she did. She surveyed our packing with a critical eye and then proceeded to tell us what we needed to do. Joolz used to run a shipping company and, as such, knew all about the consequences of packing a container poorly. (I think in order to scare us into action she actually used the term ‘matchsticks’!) Within minutes, she had her sleeves rolled up ready for action, but as there seemed so much to do before morning, I just didn’t know where to begin. I ashamed to say, I lost it. I walked up the garden, bottom lip trembling, stumbled into the summer house and sobbed. Before I knew it, Mum arrived at my side with a large glass of wine, tissues and sympathy whilst Giles, Joolz and Dad toiled in the kitchen. After I had gained some perspective and downed half a bottle of wine, I rejoined the fray and when the lorry pulled up the following day, we were just about ready.
Giles had gathered a team of family and friends to help move our belongings onto the container and Joolz was managing the motley crew. Every time I think of Joolz, I see her walking up our drive, wearing a glam shift top, shades and her ubiquitous Crocs, standing hands on hips before giving orders like a drill sergeant. I still treasure the memory of Joolz having six grown men completely under her thumb, doing exactly as they were told without a murmur. You go girl !
I frequently stopped the inventory to glance in the direction of the container, which seemed to be filled, not with our stuff, but naughty giggles and muffled laughter. When I took out some drinks, Joolz and Andy were crying with laughter. Throughout the morning they had been breaking up massive sheets of polystyrene to reinforce the levels of packing, Giles, of course, had decided to help. Joolz and Andy watched helplessly as Giles carefully inserted a strip of polystyrene the size of his finger in between two boxes, his concentration was intense, the polystyrene was placed with precision and when he stood back to admire his handiwork, Joolz and Andy were bent double, unable to stifle the gales of laughter any longer. To this day, I wonder whether that little block of polystyrene did the trick as there were no breakages when the container arrived over here !!! (Just kidding Joolz – I know you are reading this – and thank you, thank you, thank you xxx)
I cannot write this without mentioning the awesome support of our family and friends during this period of time. It goes without saying that our parents were wonderful, my Mum was (and still is) on hand twenty four hours a day, seven days a week to support understand and listen (even if she is a slightly more virtual form than we are used to – Avatar Mum!), my Dad taught the children naughty songs and generally poured the wine/beer/champagne – delete as appropriate - and Giles’ parents, though struggling with our departure, offered encouragement and advice. It is at times like these that you realise just how much you are loved, and just how much you take that love for granted sometimes. As for friends, Princess Diana referred to Paul Burrell as her ‘rock’, well my very glamorous, very wise rock (no, make that an entire mountain) was (and is) Joolz. Unfailingly positive, generous and fabulous, she took time to share my concerns, listen to my worries and tell tales that made me laugh when I felt like crying. One in a million. Without the support of our family and friends, we wouldn’t be here now, so a huge thank you – I think – and let’s continue to see how the story pans out together …