Oh, how the weather gods teased. Well, they thought, why not bestow snow storms in March just when humankind are expecting spring and the Farrells in particular are booked (within a very narrow window of opportunity) to up sticks. We’ll show them, the deities said, taking us for granted, thinking they’ve got everything planned to the nth degree
And so it was that our first attempt to move house (two weeks today) failed, the main roads blocked with car accidents and jack-knifed artics, and the removal vans unable to reach us.
And then once the mover crew did manage to extract their vehicles from a two-hour jam, they decided to cut their losses and go and move someone whose house they could reach, meanwhile rescheduling us for the following Friday morning.
We felt stranded; misplaced; displaced. It was all very weird. We wandered round a cottage full of boxes, bereft of ‘home’, trying to locate the kettle and emergency tea-making kit. As the day wore on it began to rain, and spirits lifted; there were signs of a thaw. When we went into town later to find some supper, the roads were clear and the pavements slushy, we were sure that the snow would be gone by morning. We were still thinking this when we bunked down for the night on the mattress, the bed having been dismantled.
So it was a very bad moment when I opened the bedroom blinds at 7 a.m. on Friday to find the world white again and more snow falling. I had visions of our buyer trying to move in with us.
I needn’t have panicked. The movers were on the phone early, saying that although the main road was still closed, they would come the long way round and be with us at 9 am. And so they were. They had us away in 2 hours, the loading much helped, (surprise surprise) by the snow. The bad weather reports and the ongoing road blockage beyond Wenlock meant we missed out on the the usual morning traffic mayhem. There were no big container trucks squeezing by the house.
So: all there was left to do was to say goodbye to no. 31…
It’s a tad hard to process just yet – the moving on, but we seem (physically at least), to be settling into the rental house. And, besides, there’s so much to learn about our new home town of Broseley. Of which more anon, although I can report in advance that the locals are proving most welcoming. The snow is long gone too, although the weather gods are still teasing and giving us wintery gales instead of spring.