stories and lentils

After a week or wonderful rest with Florent's parents we set off from La Manche and headed south. Passing, first, through flat, grain growing arable land. Miles upon miles of fields devoted to grains. Florent assumed the position of the chauffeur to what must have seemed like a strange family lined up against one side of a bus. Thanks to the children's rear facing car seats (seemingly a good idea when they were bought) which need to be fixed to a seat positioned exactly infront of them, we needed to have a row of seats between them and the front seats. Inevitably this means I need to sit behind the drivers seat to be as close to the girls as possible to respond to their endless demands, cries and shouts of 'I've dropped my biscuit' or 'she touched dolly'. So, in this fashion we are seated in a line, Florent, then me and then the girls. Linny proclaimed 'I'm going to paint the bus with kingfishers, pigs, lions and zebras and it will be the most beaut...

We finally managed to find a van that fitted our requirement; affordable. And it does go, but not always at the first turn of the key, which we discovered to our peril. It cost us £800 so we really just want it to get us as far as the south of France and then anything from there on we will see as a providential bonus. Over the final days at the farm we packed up the van trying to squeeze everything we can in along with just enough health and safety to remain responsible parents and celebrated Ira's first Birthday. We didn't expect to still be in Somerset but it was a beautiful place to be and, too stressed to start baking amongst the chaos, we set a candle on top a pile of raspberries and strawberries from my Mum's polytunnel. Despite the pressure to start the renovation (so by the time the cold weather comes biting we are no longer in the tent) I tried to accept what is beyond our control and enjoy the unexpected prolonged stay in England and Ira's Birthday tea...

  The last few days of packing and moving came and the cleaning and sorting seemed like it would never end. The mess of boxes, packed and half packed and then the empty rooms, stripped of the last two years of our lives. It felt very sad but toward the end the sadness was overtaken by a frantic desire to finish, finally. As if leaving our home wouldn't be task enough the minibus packed up, guzzling almost two litres of oil in a twenty minute journey (that's another story) and thankfully friends came to our rescue.  On our last day, after sleeping in the empty house, we took a last wander to the local park in the most beautiful of early summer sunshine. It was blissful and heart wrenching all at the same time. There wasn't room for the girls and I in the car for the final trip out of Bristol to my Mum's. We walked down to the station, me feeling choked up and slightly hazy from our neighbour's farewell gin and tonic. The girls smelt warm...