One Week on

 Just seven days ago we were exhausted, surrounded by boxes of our possessions and trying to find the essentials to make it possible to sleep. At least our bed had been assembled but everything else was a jumble. Suffering from the after-effects of a virus that had given us both coughs the week before, we now had breathing problems caused by a brand-new carpet that had not even been vacuumed once, so piles of fluff accumulated everywhere.At least the weather was good to us - it remained warm for several days and we lived with the doors open.

Now we have begun sorting ourselves out. Huge numbers of boxes have been opened and contents decanted and placed more or less where we want them. The bare rooms are starting to feel homely - putting up lampshades in the last couple of days has certainly helped. We ate off our knees for several days but now have cleared all the stuff cluttering up our tables and can sit down to eat in a civilised way. Even the television - which did not work because the internal wiring system was not properly set up - is now functioning.

We have barely left our secluded estate, other than to pop out to Alcester for shopping and a couple of times to local pubs. This, however, feels right and proper. We have chosen a rural location and expect to be spending most of our time here.

We had hoped for a warm welcome from our fellow-residents. What we have experienced so far has surpassed our expectations. We feel part of a community in which everyone has an abiding interest in living harmoniously with their neighbours.

Moving

 This is the first despatch from our new home in Warwickshire. Amidst a welter of boxes, packing tape, piles of things in every corner and the joys of trying to find stuff you know you packed but can't quite put your finger on, there has been barely time to draw breath. And we have been here fully five days.

I am, finally, sat at my desk looking out over the edge of the estate - and it really is an estate - over a wildflower meadow to a horizon of trees. 

 

 

 

This is one of the key reasons we left beautiful Ruislip; we were fortunate to have lived in one of the pleasanter parts of the suburb but houses surrounded us in all directions. Here it is mainly trees, fields and the low density buildings of the retirement village to which we have migrated.

Our moving men did not do us many favours. We had a plan for us to arrive at the property first so as to direct them - they changed it and split the load into two. Load one arrived some time before we did and they had unloaded wherever they thought fit.They piled up the boxes four and five high in front of many of the storage units to which the contents were destined. We had to shift the boxes before we could do anything and they were heavy! They elaborately packed up wooden spoons and similar with twists of paper but took apart a delicate display case containing miniatures that were all stuck firmly in place, damaging the case in the process and breaking the bonds that held the pieces in place. 

We moved into a newly-built house and have the usual "snagging" issues but so far nothing that is worse than a minor irritant. 

There is still much to do so I will end here and resume when I have renewed my literary energies.

Farewell to Ruislip

 After nearly 30 years in beautiful Ruislip, it is time to move to greener pastures - literally - for Mrs C and I are relocating in the lush countryside of rural Warwickshire. There will be no more despatches from this agreeable part of west Middlesex and no more blistering invective on behalf of commuters everywhere.

But fear not, this blog will continue. Perhaps the Ramblings bit will become even more relevant as I explore the  byways, the disused railways, the canals and riverside walks close to my new home. Even my editor has agreed to make the move and I hope to find an untenanted tumbledown cattle shed to provide suitable accommodation. [Thanks. Thanks so very much: Ed]

 The problem confronting us today is whether to change the name.  Or not to bother, maybe just insert a tiny little "ex" before the word "Ruislip". Changing well-known names for neologisms has sometimes had damaging results - The Post Office attempting to become Consignia amidst universal derision is a good example. And the hamlet to which we are migrating is not a household name; I don't want people distracted by trying to work out exactly how to find Upper Silage-cum-Bishop's Nodules. Yes, I think Ruislip needs to remain at the heart of the marketing side of things and I can be a sort of writer-in-exile, warming my heart in the long dark winter evenings with thoughts of the roadworks on the A40, extensive delays on all Tube services to Harrow, the unending posts on Facebook about missing pets, found pets and pets found sadly deceased¹, mislaid keys, strangers outside one's house ("Stay safe, everyone") and the unstinting efforts of the O'Hara Bros to replace every pavement in the borough whether it needs it or not.

 More when I have had a chance to settle in ....

 

1. No pet ever dies - they are always found deceased.