Home alone, again...

JON: It’s a long time since we’ve written anything for the blog. We have several good excuses, of course, but simply blaming it on moving into our new house and the associated traumas and tribulations pretty much sums it up.

We exchanged keys on November 1st, and Marie moved into high gear painting every available surface and directing a large team of burly workmen in the construction of a new bathroom and assorted other heave jobs. This was supposed to be a three month project but turned into a five-week one as buyers for our old house suddenly materialized. High gear was clearly called for.

Meanwhile, I went back to Holland. This was always the plan (cat-sitting, you know), but Marie and I were both rather horrified to discover how little energy and ability I now have in the DIY department. Basically, I can keep going like a semi-normal person for a day, but will then suffer grave consequences of exhaustion, cramps and back pain for the best part of a week afterwards. Which is perhaps okay under normal circumstances, but a house move is far from normal – and so, now, am I.

I may have called several previous posts “home alone”, but this time I was on my own for longer, further and much more miserable. It didn’t help at all that I developed sciatica pains and had put my back out because we were camping out on substandard beds in Denmark. At times I could hardly walk, and at one point I had a wee panic attack when I found myself standing completely immobile in a corner. All shall pass eventually, but it’s bloody unpleasant while it lasts.

My lonely vigil in Holland also came to an end at last, and (despite a small hiccup when the removal van carrying all our earthly possessions was stuck on the wrong side of a snow storm and unable to deliver for several days) I am now finally installed in this marvelous, PD-friendly home.

I’m tempted to upload a set of pictures of the house, but that would only make you jealous… I’ll just say that we have an uninterrupted view of the sea, and ample space to accommodate visits from my two children, their partners and offspring. The cat is a bit daunted by the new place, though – small animal, very wide, white world.

Next week I’ll tell you what fun we’ve had trying to get me the elusive CPR number which is the key to open all Danish healthcare locks. Don’t go away…