Two months of heaven

Well, we went and did it. Bought a house, moved North, enjoying ‘multi-generational living’, as they call it these days!

This is why we left our mountain home in Spain, to live together as a group, sharing the ups and downs of life. We are really enjoying seeing the girls every day as they pop through to help us with work, mess around with the dogs, and so on. And, of course, it’s great to get to know our daughter again, as an adult rather than ‘just’ our child! 

We’re living on the Black Isle in a very rural area, yet only 15 minutes from Inverness. It’s sooooo gorgeous here, trees, wildlife, a big garden — all the things Kenton and I hold dear.

There is a lot to do to make our end of the house a real home. We’ve put in separating door, and soon will be turning one of the rooms into a kitchen. We love doing that type of work! That will be followed by outdoor work come spring, adding a greenhouse, BBQ, bread oven, raised beds, and so on.

We can’t wait, and I’m sure our little helpers will make the workload lighter!

 

What’s everlasting life?

What a question, eh? Great minds have wrestled with this through the ages — but great mind or not, Here I go.

This post has come about because my dear friend Duncan Paton has died. Born with brittle bone disease, he was never expected to reach his 20’s, but he fooled them all! Not only did he live into his 50’s, he lived life fast and hard. He traveled everywhere. Commuted to London. Married, and divorced. Most importantly, he made friends wherever he went. 

He wasn’t a sweet-natured man, and had quite a temper — often challenging guys to fights (with brittle bones? really?), with the result that his great friend Chris often had to wheel him to safety, at speed.

We started our very first jobs in IT together, killing ourselves at how clueless we were. We teased each other relentlessly. We went on cricket trips together, and tales of his sunburnt nostrils live on. No one could make me laugh as hard as he dI’d, or cry as quickly. 

He called me when he found out I had breast cancer, and once again made me laugh despite myself. He called me in tears to tell me he couldn’t take the job I got him — the powers that be would take away all his aid if he earned too much money.

I’ve seen comments on Facebook about him enjoying himself next to the Big Guy. Somehow I don’t think Dunc would think much of that, but he would enjoy the joke if he’d been wrong.

My own opinion is that I think that ‘life after death’ means living on in the hearts of those who love us. Memories, taken out and enjoyed from time to time. Laughter and tears in equal measure. That’ll do me. Love ya’ Dunc.

 

 

Culture shock

So we’re back. And it’s been quite the hard landing. Yes, we decided to come back, for some very good reasons. Yes, we expected an adjustment period.

The baby girls

Sunset in Suffolk

But oh my god, we didn’t expect it to be quite so hard! A month later, and we are still at loose ends, feeling like we don’t fit in. You don’t expect to feel quite so odd being back in a country you lived in for over 20 years, do you?

But odd we do feel, good readers. And lonely for our friends in Spain. And missing our glorious home on the mountain. Every Sunday, it seems, I shed tears, and if you know me well, you know how much I hate to cry.

Suffolk is a beautiful county, for sure. But there are too many people. Too many cars. It’s too expensive. And too muddy. With too many rules.

It’s our fault, I know. We’ve changed, maybe too much. Family and friends have moved on with their lives, and there’s little room for us in there.

But we won’t give up just yet. Stay we will, and we will work towards adjusting and accepting, and one day we will feel like us again.

But for today, we reserve the right to be sad.