How Not to Move

Yes, I know, I know, we only moved to the house we are in now a mere 10 months ago, but we are moving again.

Shockingly, this will be Mini's 5th house, and she's only just 3. Terrible. 

We don't have much luck with houses, or Landlords.

Well, this isn't completely true- before we moved to Maidenhead we had lovely Landlords, in 7 years we moved 3 times and that was it. And even then we only moved 3 times to accommodate for more furniture, better parties and the arrival of Mini.

Since moving to Maidenhead, we have been sadly lacking in the golden Landlord relationship.

The first one was a cow whose house was unsafe and was shut down by Environmental Health inspectors.

The second ones were just plain bast*rds who ripped us off.

Now we have he of the Botox List.

He has managed to take a smidge from the other two- an unsafe house, and being a rip off merchant, and has added more delights to the mix. Like people turning up for him at 3am. And cars being parked on the drive then the drive being used as a car showroom at gone 9pm.

The end game for our contract, as usually we stick it out until the end, was that he stole some our private mail, including letters from my GP about my depression, and then used them against Elder and me in a phone call about said Heavies who appeared at 3am.

We had been mulling over a move for a while. The house, if the Landlord had of spent some money on very desperately needed repairs (such as the damp. And the holes in the Conservatory roof. And the Electrical Lead which hangs over the shower with a live bulb in it, the only light in the bathroom) is a lovely big house. The garden is concrete and tiny, but you cant win 'em all. 

And with Rental prices going stupidly upwards, we felt stuck, as the places advertised in our price range in Maidenhead, and near to Mini's playgroup, where 2 bed pokey flats on the second or third floor with no garden or even a balcony. And moving from a 3 bed house to a 2 bed flat with two kids, 2 adults and Elder's record collection filled us with dread. We had a bigger flat with a garden pre-children in Gillingham, so it felt like a step backwards.

We could've afforded Slough, and had a house, but Elder was so anti that idea- his reckoning is that he used to live there and hated it, and its cheap for a reason. And its on Street Wars a lot. That and we'd have had to move Mini from Playgroup, something which would not have been popular.

Then Elder spoke to his favourite cabbie, who knows our Landlord (and has called him an arsehole several times from experience). He also has known us since Littlest was ill in Hospital, and knows we've had a pretty rough time of it.

"Rent my house", he said.

Turns out he owns property too, and his house was coming up for rent. He even dropped the rent for us, as he reckons its worth it to find good tenants. 

So thats all cool yeah?

Hmm, not quite.

We found out Wednesday of last week.

And we move in this Saturday. Eeeek!

But its been going OK, thus far. Its forced us to have mammoth clear outs. I personally am proud to say I made a local teenagers day when I donated 2 HUGE wheelie bin sacks (the kind the council gives you, the big wheelie bins) full of my old clothes. Some of which it did take a lot of English stiff upper lipped-ness to part with. Like my Vintage Wranglers. And my tiny vests from when I had a flat tummy ( yeah hadn't worn those in a while).

I found a similar size bag full of Mini's old stuff (and she's worse than me for clothes and handbags now. She actively voices an opinion on what handbag she wants from EBay, and proudly walked to playgroup last week with her very own miniature Ollie and Nic Cherries bag).

Elder got rid of loads of stuff- how is it guys are happy with 4 T-Shirts, a few pairs of jeans and 2 Shirts? I have to have at least 4 in each colour. And then 2 in reserve.

Even some of Littlest's, who has suddenly had a massive growth spurt and sprouted a tummy like Homer Simpson, were given away.

I managed to smuggle out a whole sack of useless soft toys without the house erupting into World War 3. Next going are a bag of books and videos.

We are actually more prepared, and packed, than when we've had weeks and weeks to get it done. 

The best bit is that this time, I don't have to lift and carry on the day! Yes thats probably lazy, but its not my fault. 

Sister-in-law number 2 had offered to take Mini and Littlest on the day, so they dont do what they did last time- create panic, havoc and chaos. But she then found out she has to pop out on the day. So, now I'm going too to sit with the Tots while she pops out! Yay! I <3 going to her house as she always has an amazingly good fridge and never just makes you a sarnie for lunch. You get a posh sarnie ( by that I mean not just some stale Hovis with a bit of watery ham), a side salad, posh crisps, and a cake. I'd happily live there given half a chance.

The new house is great- Mini and Littlest's bedrooms are bigger as is the kitchen and garden (which has grass! Not concrete!) We'll live closer to Sister in law 2 and Elder's Brother A. The park is better and a mere 5 minutes away. Its not on a busy, accident blackspot main road. But its nearer to town.

The only downside is it needs to be redecorated in the main rooms except the kitchen and bathrooms, as its a bit heavy on the wallpaper and borders.

Best part though? The road name.

I will be Claire of Clare Road. It sounds like Anne of Green Gables or an Enid Blyton title. If I wasn't so well known as Twenty Something Mum, I think I'd change me blog name to that!

So, to get back to the title, how not to move. Sod all the planning and just do it I say!

Just not 3 times in 2 and a half years...