Moving, Vibrating and High Jinks in the New House

We have moved- Hurrah!

Its pretty mad to describe how good it feels to be out of the Craplords house after 4 long years of damp, rot and leaking roofs. For a start my purchases of extra strength sticky tape have gone down to zero now I no longer need to stick windows back in their frames.

It was like the last day of term the day we moved out, that's the closest I can come to summing it up. I was dancing round like a nutcase all day despite having wardrobes fall on me and losing quite a bit of furniture which we had assumed would fit but then didn't. 

Whilst I am now resigned to sleeping student style on my mattress on the floor (the bed base resolutely refused to come apart so was left, along with my white Expedit TV cabinet which fell apart), and I keep forgetting that I need to duck under the staircase, I'm pretty much in the happiest place I've been for some years.

Littlest was off back to school this morning- he got there in plenty of time, but minus Mini who has come down with a particularly nasty tummy bug- and routines have been slipped back into. We are adapting to a smaller home with not so much ease but gratitude for the fact it doesn't have black and yellow mould everywhere.

I like the new area, its quite boho in its way and you can tell its geared up to a student population, as despite it having about 15 different take away establishments and a launderette (handy as space dictated the removal of my tumbler) there is no Tesco or Sainsburys. I don't see that as an issue, in Maidenhead you cant move for local variations of these enterprises. Its nice to be able to pick up fresh milk from an independent person for a change.

Anyway, as the title suggests, there were some high jinks come moving day.

Now, I am an adult. As such, I have adult things which are hidden from the kids. About two years ago, Elder bought me, as a dare a, ahem, toy for adults.

He wanted to see my face when I opened it. It all harks back to a running joke we used to have about sending people who annoyed us a toy in the post to somewhere which would obviously cause maximum embarrassment. Yes, we are that childish, but not childish enough that we ever did it. 

I cannot touch the bloody thing though, as, due to a cock up (pun intended), its latex, which Elder forgot I am stupidly allergic to. So it has sat in the drawer ever since.

I had had thoughts of placing it in silly places (you know, glove box of the car, his man bag, stuff like that) but for fear of the Brats finding it I've never done so. 

Then we moved last week. And it was in the bottom drawer of our now shared chest of drawers along with my hair straighteners and other bits I am too much of a lazy cow to actually use. Its the drawer (or was- now we have to share the thing for clothing its my t-shirt drawer) that is the girl equivalent of a man drawer full of wires and bits of plug.

I casually mentioned to Elder that he should watch that drawer when moving it with his brother, as the toy was in its box, but it wouldn't fall out so don't worry.

Elder did worry though. He straight away worried that it would fall out, and with now his Brother and his youngest elder sister there (who'd chosen that moment to bring the Brats to their new home after a day out), he wanted to avoid such ribbing off his family.

Did he place it in a sensible place like a bread bin or a box? No. He didn't. He chose the stupidest place ever. His jeans pocket.

Except he turned the bugger on whilst he did so. 

And promptly couldn't work out how to turn it off.

It was in this predicament that I found him, large unexplained lump in his pocket and a buzzing noise coming from his jeans in the back of the van. I promptly fell about laughing, to his embarrassment and requests not to tell his brother or worse still his sister. 

Jokes on you Elder!

I have no idea where he has put it now, I have expect to go in my handbag at the local shop only for it to fall out in revenge for laughing until my guts hurt at him, standing in a lorry with it vibrating in his pocket. I didn't offer any help other than to move it to his back pocket to help ease his back pain.

What a way to move into the new house.

Anyway, how you all doing? 

Looking out for cyber attacks?

Hope you are all fine and unhacked by Buggers :)

Moving, Again, Yes Siree.

Bloody, bloody renting.

I hate it.

After 4 years of damp, disgraceful conditions and a toss pot of a Craplord, we are outta here on Wednesday.

Its a big move but not as big as we first thought it would be, as instead of having all out debate (read: swearing at each other and sulking until one of us got our way) over moving back to Kent (me) versus moving to Cornwall (Elder), we are moving to just outside of Reading instead.

I know that goes from one extreme to the other, but I found the house we are going to be renting online while eating lunch and lamenting we'd never find anywhere and end up in a flat forever. 

The Craplord surpassed himself up until then though, going so far as to lie to the court that we are behind in our rent whilst simultaneously writing us a letter saying we have never owed him rent. It was an attempt to get us out in a fortnight, which didn't work, and which the court suggested I contact the local fraud office over, but I really cannot be bothered and simply hope karma makes him disappear up his own backside shortly. 

The new house is smaller, but the Brats will still, thankfully have their own rooms. I wasn't looking forward to the pitch battles sharing would've have caused in two kids who have never ever shared a room. In our new village, house prices are the same for a 3 bed with garden near parks and schools as a two bed flat in Maidenhead.

We have no school as yet- the only minus side which is sure to organise itself over the next few months- as there are currently no spaces and as Mini is in Year 2 and about to sit exams they are reluctant to move her anyway. So, for now, we will have to commute them to their current school, its 15 minutes drive in non traffic, possibly half an hour in the morning due to rush hour. Not perfect but not much you can do bar end up being fined up to your neck.

As a result, I will be offline for a few days until the lovely TalkTalk come and reconnect me to the 21st century. 

Enjoy your half term guys! I'll report back on the move soon :)

The "M" Word (No, Not That One, The Other One)

By "M" word, and before you all start going off and buying hats, I'm referring to the current, within the top 3, reason for giving me untold stress- Moving.

I bloody hate moving.

There I was, until I was 17, living in the same house from birth onwards. Then I moved once or twice, still within the same town I'd grown up in, surrounded by everyone I knew and with a good knowledge of the bus and train routes.

Cut to 2007 and we decided to move to Berkshire. 

Admittedly, the area I'm from had been neglected and gone rapidly down hill, up until I'd had Mini I didn't mind it. But pushing my daughter in a pram and having to avoid scores of crackheads hiding round corners was enough to make me make the leap out of my hometown.

It was definitely a form of "grass is always greener". We didn't put any thought into it, but plumped for the area where Elder's family lived en masse (save for one in Croydon and one in Bexley Village). We had been there twice. It looked OK.

We hadn't put any thought into house prices, or schools, or anything much.

I do regret moving here though. I think life has been a disaster since we did move, and looking back, we'd have been better thinking a bit more than we did and perhaps looking at other factors and areas first.

Now, and for some time, I've felt horrifically trapped, lonely, and disillusioned. Meanwhile, rental prices have gone up- when we first moved here, a two bed house with garden went for around £800-900 a month. Now it's more like £1,250-1,600 or more for a two bed even flat, with no garden.

So, we are priced out, and we know we are, we know we have to go and we're not that bothered. Or I'm not that bothered, such is the lack of feelings I have towards the place.

I know it's wrong to associate bad luck with an area. We have had a run of it since coming here, what with my accident in the first house, to Littlest being born early, and the like. 

This is where our issue lies though.

Where do we go to?

I am 100% behind going, not so much home, but to within a reasonable train distance from it. I miss my pals loads, most have now had babies and are Mum's themselves. I kind of also feel that I've let them down a bit by not being there for them, and likewise, when I've been through a bad time I have wished they were down the road and not three hours away. I also want to be near enough to London that it wont cost an arm and a leg to get to events.

Elder, meanwhile, wants to go anywhere but Kent, and would happily stay here even. He has been looking at Plymouth, where Nursey sister is going to in 2 years, or Cornwall again.

Now, I don't want to be mean about areas I don't know, but both of these have the same issues. We know no one, we know nothing about the area, its miles from London. All the same issues bar the London distance that we found on moving to where we are now.

It'll be over £100 to get to London as well, which is ridiculous for train fare but I don't drive and to be frank I wouldn't give me a car to drive. I know my limitations and driving is definitely one of them.

Its causing untold annoyance in our house. 

I just want to go where I know isn't that posh or that great, but is affordable- a better the devil you know situation. Elder also wants cheaper prices but nice area. Can we have both? I doubt it.

So, at the moment I feel pulled in all directions and it sucks. I want to stand my ground over Kent but feel there are possibly people who feel they are helping by suggesting to us not to go to Kent who feel they are doing right by us but who maybe should let us decide as a family?

What would you do? Do you know Plymouth or Cornwall? What are they like when the holiday season ends?

Debating the Painting, and Too Many Mini Clothes

As with any move, unless you are really lucky, redecorating at least a few rooms is inevitable.

In our house, the word which best describes the decor is Borders. Every room except the kitchen and the main bedroom has a naff border of some kind. In our bedroom, its a nightmare of Laura Ashley flowers in green.

Now, I know a lot of 80s style is back, but unless hell freezes over I cannot live with the mad pattern and border combo for much longer. The ceilings have been artexed to within an inch of their life with crazy swirls, so that, plus the over active wallpaper, and the Axminister old lady carpet  is just head ache inducing. (How do I know its old lady carpet? My Nan has it in white).

As we have mad abstract  paintings with lots of colours, we usually paint the downstairs cream, with white woodwork. That way, none of the paintings clash.

Mini has picked her colour, and Littlest will have light blue- not because he has a say in it, just because he's a boy!

So, its not colours that are the problem.

It's who gets to paint.

*

Elder always does the painting. That's why, nine times out of ten, he paints just before we decide we actually hate the house and we then move, rendering the time and money spent entirely pointless. Yet for all my motivated spirit to grab a brush and get it done myself, he has banned me from decorating for ten years.

Why?

Well, when I was 18 and had just met Elder, I decided to redecorate my tiny flat by myself., and armed with paint that my neighbours kindly donated, I slapped paint here and there.

Granted, I "forgot" to put any covers on the furniture. Or the carpet. I also "forgot" to put masking tape around the light switch and window frames. Mainly because I didn't know what masking tape was.

Elder was not impressed. In fact, so unimpressed was he that he has used this minor oversight to ban me from even holding a dry brush since.

But this time I decided that having bought a tester pot for Mini's room, I'd see how well it covered the awful square bits on the wallpaper by doing a little square. 

The square got rather large, and I sneakily carried on until I'd finished the whole tester point.

Elder was not impressed, and moaned that I would end up messing the house up. He promised to get on with the painting. However, I argued my case. Well, I promised to only paint the middle of the walls and not near the skirting or ceiling, so he can do the fiddly cutting in bit.

I am now allowed to paint the whole of the upstairs (minus the hallway where guests will see) in the same fashion. Hurrah! Painting embrago lifted, I think I may try wallpapering next.....

Speaking of rooms, well, Mini now has all hers, bar the decorating, in place. And my God my daughter has too many bloody clothes.

Honestly, she has more clothes than, wait for it-

ELDER AND LITTLEST COMBINED!

Its my fault. I can't resist dressing her up as she looks so cute. Really, our new shopkeper gave her a double Milky Way for free two days ago. 

Elder was unsuprised when I told him I had come to this conclusion, saying I treat her like a dolly. Which I resent, merely for the fact I don't push her round in a pram or feed her plastic pretend food. 

She has 18 dresses, 12 pairs of jeans, 8 skirts, 5 pairs of shorts, 5 swimsuits and three large adult sized draws of tops.  That's without all her shoes, handbags (some of which are designer) and her sunglasses.

I don't spend silly amounts on her, although a lot of it is labels or upper High Street. I buy a lot from thrift shops or E Bay, and love a good bargain. 

I don't understand people who feel its hard to dress a child nicely with the amount of thrift shops there are these days, and many may stick their noses in the air over second hand clothing, (I always buy new shoes), but children wear clothes for such a short period, if at all, before out growing them, for a couple of pounds you can buy a good quality item which has plenty of life in it.

With that in mind, and Littlest having another major growth spurt, I will no longer buy her anything, but will spoil the boy instead! 

Elder can sort is own lack of clothes out! 

*Paint photo courtesy of Simon Howden/FreeDigitalPhotos.net (Portfolio)

Picture of Mini, Copyright of C.Curran, and may NOT be reproduced without permission.

Claire of Clare Road

Yes,we have moved-yippee!

No more damp, no more random meat heads turning up at my door and no more living next to a road which was referred to in the paper as an accident black spot.

We finally moved at 2pm Sunday, after our original van let us down for Saturday. Everything was ready to move well before though, and the last thing to do was unscrew Mini and Littlests beds. We even managed to remember the screws this time (twice we've moved and had to replace cots due to loosing screws).

Mini was a tiny bit upset by the whole thing- when the van left with her Dad in it she thought he was leaving us. Her main concern, spoken through sobs what that "Daddy was nicking her toys".Charming!

So, its now Friday and  we've unpacked 90% of our belongings. Paint colours have been chosen including abright pink personally chosen by Mini for her "Suite" as I've nicknamed her massive bedroom. 

The new Landlord has left us some really naff 80s MFI wardrobes in white melamine and with mirrored doors, which Elder hates but I love the naffness (child of the 80s through and through, me), and Mini has decided that she much prefers the brand new double Divan bed which he kindly left for her to sleep into save us putting her bed up at 9pm on the first night, so her single bed has gone in the shed for now!

Littlest has no idea that anything is different, as long as he has his routine, his bath, his bottle and Roary the lion toy, he's happy and unaffected.

The only negative (there's always one!) is that we had thought the last tenant was leaving the cooker behind, but that didn't happen, so we've been eating salads and micro meals since the move (yuck to micro meals). But, Elder's lovely sister, who has just had a major kitchen re-do, has gifted us her massive double gas cooker (which I had not so secretly lusted after for yonks), so with a bit of a kitchen wiggle round, it will be taking pride of place from tomorrow. 

Due to the weather finally switching to summer (despite the drizzle on moving day) lazy days have been spent in the garden under the gazebo, and the kids have been worn out after running after the neighbours cats all day in their new space. A barbecue has already been organised, and everyone is a lot calming and more relaxed than previously.

I will have some pics soon, but the paint needs to be slapped on the walls first! The border and wallpaper combos in all the rooms look like an early 90s Changing Rooms nightmare! But, here's the garden-

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...

Moving...Again...yes really.

I am beginning to think that renting houses will one day be the death of me, or my sanity at the very least.

Yes, that's right, we, the Deegan/Curran family are moving for the third time in two years.

First, we moved from Kent to Berkshire, due to Mr D's family being largely based in Maidenhead and the surrounding area. Secondly, Chrissy was 5 months old and we found due to league tables the schools were a much better prospect than in my home town.

So, we packed our three bed house and waved goodbye (you can see more about that move at my My Space blog, follow the link at www.myspace.com/clairefromkent).

Yes, waved goodbye to cheap house prices!

Our 3 bedder in Gillingham was 600pcm.

You'd be a miracle worker to find a bedsit for that here!

The first house we moved into was tiny, with the second bedroom which we could only fit a cot in and nothing else. We had to give away loads of furniture, clothes and other personal belongings which pleased our friends no end, but left us with very little, just so we could fit comfortably within the rooms of the house.

Actually that should really read "uncomfortably" as we had to give our big squashy leather sofa away as it wouldn't fit in the compact living room.

Then we found out we were having Edward, and knew we couldn't squeeze another body into the already bursting at the seams home.

To make matters worse, a month before we moved out, we were sitting happily in the front room, me six months pregnant, Chrissy playing (unpacking boxes we'd packed our stuff in!) and Mr D had just made coffee, when there was an almighty crash from outside.

It sounded like a truck had gone through the front fence into the garden.

Thats because a truck literally had gone through the front garden fence and had missed going through the wall into the front room (where the sofa was sitting with us on it) little more than an inch!

Next we moved into our current house.

We had to do this in a hurry as on the date we were due to move out our previous house, I had gone into labour three months earlier than planned, so we needed a base from which to get to the hospital.

The house was bigger, but "tired" would be a good word to describe it.

But we didn't worry.

How I wish we had of looked a bit harder for something else.

Firstly, we have the ultimate neighbour from hell. You can't sneeze in our house without her making a complaint to our landlords. She must have a fist made of iron, what with all the banging on the wall she does. I actually now believe that she would prefer it if we gagged our children!

So, we now have to move out (Thank god) cos they have decided to sell up due to the continuing credit crunch.

And now, we have had to start househunting again.

The first house we looked at was a dive. With wallpaper hanging off the damp walls, and carpet not just threadbare but not there in some parts, we asked whether the landlords would decorate and replace the carpet before we moved in.

The Letting agent smiled and said no.

And they wanted a staggering 900pcm for it!

Next was a stunning three bedroom detached, with a huge garden and space beyond we'd ever seen!

Problem-fees of over 2,643 pounds. Before we'd signed to say it was ours. Might not sound too bad, but if you fail the credit check after handing over such vast amounts, thy keep the money, and you remain homeless. And I would fail as my identity was stolen a while ago.

So, I took drastic measures. I advertised in the local paper, gumtree and any other housing websites I could find.

And what'd'ya know, it worked.

On Saturday, I received a phone call, from a landlady with a house with three bedrooms, in the part of town we preferred (ie the one with fewer miserable snobs as neighbours), within our budget. There's no stupidly ridiculous fees. No credit referencing. No damp, and brand spanking new carpet without a hole in sight.

We had a look round yesterday, and we will also now have a driveway and garage (handy for when we finally stop moving and can thus afford a car), as well as a big airy conservatory where Chrissy and her mini Toys R Us worthy amount of toys and other pants can reside. It leads right onto the garden, so rather than having to stand in the kitchen and watch her play, I can relax.

The winner for Mr D was the shelves up one wall where his vast amounts of records can happily sit out of reach of Chrissy (who he caught dancing and stamping on one of his motown albums with glee at the weekend).

So, now the packing begins. I hate packing. My sister in laws always nag us about the amount of junk we have, but I never agree until I'm the one packing and unpacking it. So I shall be getting rid of alot of stuff this time.

Well, thats the general idea anyway.

Anyone got any boxes?