Home Sweet Home




Home is where the heart is. It’s also where all the furniture, packing boxes, bubblewrap mountain and two geriatric cats are.

The last three and a half weeks have been a bit of a roller coaster ride. Hell, the last three months have been a bit of a roller coaster ride too. One minute you’re happily unpacking your bags from a skiing holiday, next thing your house is on the market, you’ve found the cottage of your dreams and you’re upping sticks and moving from one country to another to start life afresh. Bam!

Despite a few technical hitches along the way – mostly involving the distinct lack of wifi- we are now pretty much settled into life outside The ‘Diff. For those of you not down with the lingo, The ‘Diff is the affectionate name for Cardiff, where I have been living since 1983. Now we find ourselves in deepest Herefordshire, surrounded by assorted fields of crops, apple and pear orchards and assorted odd neighbours.

The odd neighbours come under many guises.

There are the four-footed kind in the field adjacent to the cottage, who have a habit of snorting at the flies sporadically throughout the day – much to the concern of the two geriatric cats we brought with us who still haven’t worked out what’s behind the hedge.

Then there’s the octogenarian lady next door who could give DilysNextDoor a run for her money in the alcohol stakes, just replace the gin with cider and you’re there. She is also The Font of All Knowledge and has been a worthy substitute for Google whilst we wait for the wifi to be installed.

The neighbours to the front of the cottage will henceforth be known as The Naked Ones following their confessing to being naturists. Thankfully they suggested we share the cost of putting up a fence between the properties in order to keep their assets to themselves. Fencing panels have been ordered. Tall ones.

And finally there are a wonderfully jolly couple who have a holiday house just down the hill from our garden – he’s Italian by descent and she’s delightfully dizzy. I’m envisaging lots of red wine and pasta fuelled evenings ahead.

The other neighbours are scattered a little further afield, but we met a few at the village AGM last week. Picture an episode of The Vicar of Dibley, complete with yes, yes, yes, yes, nnnnnoooo, no, and you get the picture. I’m not sure which character I will qualify for yet, only time will tell. Please keep all suggestions to yourself.