Leaving Paradise
I sold my house- well I thought I had. We signed the compromise and I was delighted. I searched for properties in the UK. There was nothing that I could afford to buy with the proceeds of the sale. I remembered that my son owed me money. If he could repay me then there was a possibility that I would be able to buy something.
I discussed possibilities with my son. He proposed that I should buy a house that he owned which was let. I was sent photos of the house which looked good. I thought I would be able to make it even better by adding a window and creating a beautiful garden. I booked a flight to see the reality.
Unfortunately, as the tenant was still in residence, I cancelled the flight and the buyers agreed to delay the completion for 2 weeks. I had been prepared to move. I had been steadily packing bags and boxes and giving things away, taking stuff to the dechetterie and the charity shop. Patch seemed undisturbed by it all as she could sleep comfortably in her favourite spot.
On the Monday I should have signed and would have departed. I had a farewell meeting with my Monday group, we met for tea, cakes and games and to speak French. We were in a cheerful mood but sad that I was leaving. It was celebratory in a way sharing presents and cards. Laughing and crying, all very emotional. It was that afternoon that it began. I heard a drip. Water was dripping from the bathroom via a light to the floor in the vestibule.
Patch unconcerned about the bags, boxes and cases
I discussed possibilities with my son. He proposed that I should buy a house that he owned which was let. I was sent photos of the house which looked good. I thought I would be able to make it even better by adding a window and creating a beautiful garden. I booked a flight to see the reality.
Unfortunately, as the tenant was still in residence, I cancelled the flight and the buyers agreed to delay the completion for 2 weeks. I had been prepared to move. I had been steadily packing bags and boxes and giving things away, taking stuff to the dechetterie and the charity shop. Patch seemed undisturbed by it all as she could sleep comfortably in her favourite spot.
On the Monday I should have signed and would have departed. I had a farewell meeting with my Monday group, we met for tea, cakes and games and to speak French. We were in a cheerful mood but sad that I was leaving. It was celebratory in a way sharing presents and cards. Laughing and crying, all very emotional. It was that afternoon that it began. I heard a drip. Water was dripping from the bathroom via a light to the floor in the vestibule.
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| Patch in her favourite spot |
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