Sunday: Day of our farewell party!

Peter writes:

In an attempt to enjoy all things British to the end we went out for curry on Friday and an Italian last night. Yes, we are a bit odd aren't we?! But hey, today is the day of our farewell bash at the church hall so there is a good chance that if you are reading this then we might well be seeing you later today :o)

As I sit here surrounded by boxes (the only thing not packed is my computer), a myriad of thoughts are spinning around my head. J and I have talked and dreamt of this move to a new way of life for some years, yet suddenly it seems that it has crept up on us and is here. We are obviously excited, enthused, positive and full of optimism about our new life ahead but inevitably the process is tinged with some sadness, as we leave the house we have lived in together for nearly 9 years (and me for 16 - the longest ever in one abode!) and also, of course, all our friends and neighbours. However, Tuscany is but a 2hr cheap RyanAir flight away and already I believe we have three bookings (or is it four, darling?) for guests coming to our rental cottage during the summer.

All this is still to come though. Today is day for laughter and tears, hugs and kisses: cheerios but not goodbyes.

Do I have any reservations about this new life with the only person in the world I would wish to do it with? Well, just one: will we survive a 1,000 mile, two day drive with our cat roaming the car?!! Watch this space...

Life in boxes

Juls writes:

Friday evening. For anyone who has ever moved, this story will be familiar:

We are sitting in semi-darkness trying to catch sight of the TV hiding behind 12 boxes. Our wonderful removals chaps; Karl, Jimmy and Cheese (can't remember his real name but that's the one they called him so we have re-Christened him Gorgonzola in honour of our Italian Job) have done a sterling job of putting our chaotic and cluttered lives quite neatly into boxes. Many boxes. Far too many boxes. Weed the cat is thoroughly enjoying trying to get stuck behind as many as possible.

Now, of course, we can't find anything we want/need, except occasionally each other, and one odd sock (which keeps getting moved from room to room - lucky sock).

Managed to have a blissful hours' break from it all today when my dear friend Em (who can't make Sunday) came all the way from Brighton to say goodbye. First official farewell. Oh dear, I am starting to get tearful, dammit, and I was really quite happy in denial.

The chaps return on Monday for another farewell - when we must kiss most of our belongings goodbye for at least 6 months (argh!).

Amazingly, our To-Do List is now manageable... due in no small part to Peter's valiant help/crossing things off that haven't actually been achieved but we don't care about any more.

Tomorrow will be busy too - among other things, I need to 'pop' to the shops and buy enough food/drink for 100 people for our leaving do. Only snag is how to get it all in the car when it's already crammed to capacity with far more clothes/shoes/toiletries/cat litter than is remotely practical. Should be a fun military excercise that will probably involve hanging bags out of windows.

I must now away and have some coffee out of a jamjar (mugs all packed) - I need an energy boost before downloading the last of my CDs to Ipod - ooh look, I'm getting all technical.

Take care all - can't wait to see most of you on Sunday. Molto Baci (Italian kisses), Juls xxx

Our last week in Blighty!

Juls writes:

Dearest friends, family and other assorted riff-raff,

Welcome to Our Humble Blog!

Never thought I'd say that as a privacy-loving techno-phobe, but I wanted to find a way to feel close to those of you that I will miss desperately (you know who you are!) and to keep you posted at what is perhaps the most exciting time of our lives. One of those good friends rather rudely suggested after several glasses of wine that as a writer/journalist, I really should keep up with the times. So here goes...

Yes, we have (almost) sold our gorgeous cottage in Teddington and (fairly certainly) bought an unloved but potentially magical turn-of-the century house in Tuscany, complete with olive trees, a small vineyard and some very strange furniture. But we are not talking about the stereotypical gentle rolling hills, chianti, bus-loads of American tourists and Francis Mayle's posh Bramasole. Indeed not - we are soon to be the proud owners of a much more modest dream in an agricultural, mountain-strewn (and utterly beautiful) part of the same province. Most people think we are mad. Some think we are brave. But we are really not either (well, ok, maybe the former). We are just pursuing a dream that we have shared for about 8 years. And yes, it does involve chickens and the faint whiff of tanin.

No doubt I will ramble on at some point as to how our dream started and evolved, but for now, I just wanted to start this page up and hopefully keep you posted over the next few days. It is 5am and I am currently squashed by lots of packing boxes. Hubby Peter is asleep (as most of the sane world should be) but I keep looking at our 'To Do' list and frowning at it. As if it's the fault of two pieces of A4 paper that I am completely disorganised and not remotely ready to leave the country for good in exactly one week's time. Also not mentally prepared about leaving my wonderful friends. No doubt it will hit me en route to Dover and poor Peter (and our already traumatised cat) will have to listen to my impression of a prize-winning wailing banshee while trying to avoid lorries and speed cameras.

On that remarkably jolly note, I really should get some sleep. Will hopefully write again soon (or persuade Squire Staveley to contribute)

Sleep well all xxx