"What are we going to do?"

highoffleystud.co.uk


 Not an easy question to answer!

The buyers had seemed interested in our house, spending time and money on re-visits and surveys. The estate agent reassured us that all was well and there shouldn't be any hold ups as their finances were being dealt with by the agent's own  financial advisor.

So when we received the call from the agent telling us the buyers were unable to raise the money, we were to say the least surprised! It turned out they were trying to get a mortgage on fictional figures and bluff. The advisor who had assured us of their solvency kept a low profile , backtracking on his previous cheery claims.

We were now back at square one, but this time with very little income. A deposit paid  for a six month lease on a house in another country, parents who had sold their home of forty years to join us and a new estate agent who had mentioned that the market was on the turn on his first visit!
 My reaction was to chase work leads in France and try to create a run of work for when we arrived, that would at least pay our mortgage and the new rent. It was against this backdrop that our new agent appeared with a middle aged couple looking to move into the area.To say we had lost faith in estate agents was an understatement, but this time round we had chosen well, he proved to be a shining example of professionalism in a much maligned business.

The couple were interested in two properties, ours and a bungalow two roads away, our agent kept us informed, and finally presented us with an offer ! I could have kissed him ,we accepted and surveys and searches got underway again.This time everything went well, and a completion day was set for the day before we left for France.

We had held off from booking the ferry for as long as possible, and now found we couldn't' travel on the same boat. Olivia and the children would arrive with the car at St Malo , while I had to take the truck on the Cherbourg crossing and meet up with them before setting off for Josselin. After all we had been through this seemed a minor inconvenience and were just glad to have a ticket.

The days flew by, I closed my business, the children finished school, and packing became our mission. My days were spent travelling between our houses and a local  Lock n Store. We had decided to leave most of our possessions in Poole as the gite we were renting was fully furnished. We would take what we needed for the six month stay on my pick-up and return for the rest once we had found a house.
On paper this seemed very straightforward ,but in practise it was a different story. Items that were important to one person didn't have the same attraction to others, so a debate that would have rivalled many at the U.N. took place, and the small space on the truck was filled.

July 29th arrived, it felt strange that a date we had mentioned continually for the previous weeks was finally here.I left Olivia and the children at a friends house where we had stayed the night before, and headed to the port .Emotions had been running very close to the surface for all of us in the weeks prior to our leaving but it was a  short text from a friend that nearly tipped me over the edge,

"Miss you mate"

I waited to board my boat knowing that Olivia would soon be setting off to meet her's. I had time to think- Were we doing the right thing? Would I be able to support us in another country ? Would the children be accepted, or bullied for being different? .With these thoughts still circulating the line infront started to move and I boarded the ferry.