January 2008
The last half hour of 2007, and we are in Wales with my Mum and Stepfather Stephen. Lara, 2 and a half, is sound asleep upstairs, and Cassie, nearly 8, is very excited at being allowed to stay up to see the New Year in.
Someone suggests a game where we write down a couple of sentences about our hopes and dreams for the New Year, and then we will look back on them in one year’s time to see what actually happened. Richard and I smile over our wineglasses and write cryptically about adventure, sunshine and excitement - careful not to blow the gaff in front of Cassie, but knowing that if all our plans come to fruition we will be heading off to Spain to live in another 8 months time. Following a brief trip in November to finalise the area and schools that interested us, my business partner had, somewhat uncertainly, agreed, and our minds were made up. We had had enough of living and being parents in cold, cynical and rip-off UK, and we were determined to make a new life for ourselves in a more family-oriented, simpler lifestyle and frankly warmer community. But very few close family members and friends knew about the new life and future that beckoned
A few days in to 2008 however, a huge blow – a key staff member, my right hand woman, gives notice at work. Far from being ready for greater responsibility within our small and intense business, she wants out into another role entirely. She was a lynchpin in our plans, very unfairly as she never knew, but I am heartbroken as our dreams are shattered. The work we do is too specialised a learning curve to be able to replace her and fulfil our plans to move before the school year starts in September.
February 2008
Time to get a grip. Whilst losing a colleague and friend is a terrible blow, it’s an opportunity to re-write the role and recruit someone specifically in the light of our moving plans – someone to do more face to face work whilst I am in Spain, and be a more heavyweight management presence. J is kindly working a full 3 months notice and I have time to think things through, and we realise that if we find the right person quickly, we can still move at Christmas. Not as ideal as the start of the new school year, but as we’ve already made the decision to go for an International school with a familiar syllabus it should be OK. Easter is simply not an option in rental terms, so its shoot for Christmas or delay by a year… February is cold, dark and depressing as ever, and I am positive that I do NOT want to spend another one here.
March 2008
In March we find Col, who is all that we hoped for –a real breath of fresh air, loads of experience, and a fast learner to boot. In lots of ways she’s not what any of us expected, but with Pawpaw’s support we make the right decision and go for it.
We’re now in the very weird position of Col and me knowing my longer term plans, whilst dear friends I have worked alongside for years are none the wiser. I know my business partner is right and I need to both be absolutely certain on timing, as well as managing the breaking of the news very carefully, but I am finding the secrecy profoundly uncomfortable. Dashing outside to take phonecalls from letting agencies and schools feels deceptive – this is such a massive part of our lives to hide it from those close to us feels all wrong.
One person now in the picture is Cassie. I end up telling her on the bus to Kingston very spontaneously as the opportunity just pops up in general conversation – her reaction is thoughtful but quietly positive… it’s obviously quite a big idea to get used to. Cassie’s the kind of person who needs to think it through and come back with questions in her own time, so we talk through the basics and wait for it all to bubble to the surface. Schools, friends and communications are the primary concerns, and we deal with each thing as it comes up over the next few weeks.
April 2008
April brings Lara’s third birthday and we decide to party in style, with everything from heart-shaped sandwiches to rice krispy cakes, knowing this is the last time we’ll do all this with this crowd. Again, all the secrecy – because if we tell A from the baby group they might know B who’ll tell C who needs to hear it directly at the right time etc etc… But the children all have a lovely time.
That same weekend, all the adults are riven with sadness at the abrupt loss of a dear friend… her last text wished us success with our plans, and every aspect of her cruelly cut-short life made me want to live ours as well and fully as possible. Who can know what the future holds for any of us? For some months Richard and I have been planning a few days back in Spain next month to look at schools etc with the girls, but we take a late decision to extend the break and make it a proper family holiday. Creating great memories and experiences is the most important thing there is.
May 2008
Early in May I go to Barcelona on a business trip, and realise just how little impact the Spanish evening classes are having so far. Travelling with a bilingual colleague I feel completely useless, especially after listening to a radio station in a cab for 20 minutes before I realise that they’re not speaking Catalan but in fact the kind of Spanish I am supposed to be learning. I do manage one free day after the conference though and learn that Barcelona is great, although it *can* rain there, and when it does it doesn’t mess about. Richard texts me back with the Spanish for ‘umbrella’ and I try to make the most of it before heading home.
Within a couple of weeks it’s time for our trip back to Javea. We haven’t arranged to see any specific properties but intend to get a good feel for areas, as well as checking out the schools… At this point we break the news to Cassie’s current school, because we are taking her out in term time apart from anything else, and I appreciate their support and her class teacher’s advice on how to make the difficult choice between the two main British schools in the area. Cassie is unimpressed at the idea of spending 2 days of her holiday actually in a school, even as a visitor, but in the end finds both days interesting. Unfortunately her preference doesn’t coincide with ours, but to us it is clear which one will provide the best support in settling new children, as well as stability for what we hope will be a long term future… and at the end of the day this is a choice that needs to be made by parents rather than an 8 year old.
As well as visiting the schools we also have some lovely days at the beach, as well as catching up with Sam and family - online friends becoming real friends is always great. We experience a couple of rainy days here too; apparently one of the wettest Mays in ages, but there is plenty of sunshine as well. Apart from beaches we visit the towns of Jalon, Pego and Denia, we check out the shopping centre in Ondara, and the beautiful mountain village of Guadalest. We also drive through Benidorm and take loads of pictures to freak out my Mum. Cassie loves the Arenal beach in Javea best, which is a sandy tourist bay with lovely swimming, plenty of restaurants etc, but there are loads of beautiful and uncrowded shingle coves as well.
June 2008
Can we really be going to live by the seaside? It’s been a dream since I was their age..! Keep expecting a grownup to come along and tell me it can’t be done… back in Surrey it seems almost unreal. There is a lot to do, but - despite a worrying slowdown – things are going good on the work front, and it’s all starting to seem like a potential reality. Although it’s miles too early I start pouring over websites and agencies, seeing what our budget might realistically mean in terms of long term accommodation. Getting a 6 month lease from January won’t be ideal but the right place must be out there for us, somewhere…
Also this month we set in motion the complex and horrendously expensive business of preparing our family cat, Merlin, to travel to Spain with us. Actually his travelling to Spain is not the complex bit, but should we ever need/wish to bring him back to the UK he needs a PET passport and rabies vaccination certificate, so the series of jabs and tests need to start now.
July 2008
Finally the time has come, for ‘coming out’ about our plans to family and friends. Of course certain people have known for a long time, but specifically work colleagues – who are also friends – need careful explanations, to make sure everyone understands what’s going to happen (and most importantly that it’s going to be business as usual – just a new postal address and new location for my working at home). I tell as many people as possible face to face, and reactions are very positive and encouraging - even from the poor person whose job is not continuing in its present form. I realise how much we are supported and it’s heart-warming, I am very privileged to work with such a great team of people who are all truly good friends as well.
In terms of what we want to do and why, reactions amongst our friends are highly polarised. No matter how encouraging they are being in our support, people either totally ‘get it’ - often wistfully talking about their own dreams of escaping to the sun one day – or they think we’re completely mad. The strangest reactions are from people who are an ambivalent mixture of both opposing views, whom you would expect to be just kind of neutral, but somehow they’re not. Whatever their dreams, where we live in East Surrey is a very tightly knit community of people who have lived in the area for years, sometime generations, in some way perceiving it as an insult that anyone should consider leaving at all.
Others are terrified that we are sacrificing our daughters’ happiness and educational prospects, plunging recklessly off the career and property ladders, and cannot possibly be serious. I blame those ‘Brits making fools of themselves in the sun’ type documentaries…. “With less than 5 hours to go till the restaurant’s grand opening, Susan pleads again with the builders who still haven’t arrived to put the new roof on…” You do admittedly hear plenty of stories of reckless dreamers who check their brains in at the airport and end up losing their shirts, but we have been thinking and planning this through for over 18 months now. Our bets are hedged, our angles covered – we both have work, we are renting both ends to start with, taking the safe route educationally… and we’re quietly determined to get on with it, whatever anyone around us comes out with.
One visible manifestation of our commitment appears before the end of the month, a new – well actually pretty ancient – left hand drive Landover comes up on eBay, within our price bracket, and is snapped up. Needs various bits and bobs doing on it but we have the rest of the year, and these are the kind of cars that are supposed to last forever. Forever is also how long it might take me to tackle driving it… it is HUGE, scary, and everything is on the wrong side. The plan is that I get used to the controls on familiar roads, then once everything outside the car is also on the ‘wrong’ side, then it will all suddenly feel like it’s on the right side. It’s a good theory, just can’t find the right moment to put it to the test just yet.
August 2008
August brings a return to Wales for a holiday with family and friends. Also a tangible reminder of why we want to escape the British climate once and for all – out of two weeks in August, we manage a scant handful of dry days, and barely any you could describe as sunny.
Our bit of Wales is beautiful and I love it, but it’s such a disappointment when it’s like this. No long family days on the beach – the usual pattern is to load up the car then hover round the various coasts looking for a break in the rain, then quick dash down onto the sand, whilst we hover at the edge of the water in coats watching the girls. They are of course undaunted by little things like cold weather and grey Atlantic skies, and cosy in their little surf suits they plunge in and out of the waves. We realise how brilliant it’s going to be for them to grow up by the sea, but preferably somewhere warm enough to stay in it for more than 10 minutes at a time without developing hypothermia, and we dream about next year.
Lots of good times are of course had between the showers, in good company and a lovely place. Cassie and I go riding, we have some great meals, and the children all play beautifully. Richard manages to seriously damage his back at some point and has to spend time resting and visiting osteopaths. Yet despite this excellent reason combined with quiet country roads, I still don’t drive the car…
Home again and at the end of the month we have the Saros summer party. Despite bad turnout and bad weather we all have a great time. Perhaps another year we’ll have one on the beach, I expect people will come along then… but we’re going to need a better summer’s business than the current one to expense everyone out to the sun for it. Surely things have got to pick up soon? Strange things are happening in the world of banking, the business world seems to be holding its breath, and no one knows what’s going to happen long term.
September 2008
In September, changes start to swing into action on the work front. Clare our administrator has left, Diana is installed at Green Light, and I am at last ‘just another homeworker’. Well eventually. Diana and I have a long day’s clearing out the office, picking out the files that need preserving, and a shredding service collects the rest – a gratefully received judgement from the Market Research Society assures us we do NOT need to keep paper records for 3 years as previously assumed given it’s all digitised anyway, which leaves us with a lot of paper we may securely dispose of. Giles comes out and spends a day going through the incredible mountain of cables, components, peripherals, accessories, disks, and miscellaneous IT bits and bobs… I am very grateful because I find it almost impossible to chuck out stuff like that, which probably cost a ridiculous amount in the first place and I always feel must surely be going to be useful for something, one day. He identifies what to keep, chuck, eBay or recycle, and gradually the office starts to look a little clearer.
Househunting is gathering pace now, via various websites and endless emails to the hundreds of accommodation agents whose details I collected in May. Private landlords too, and I also take classifieds in a couple local publications. The right place for us is out there, and I am going to find it! I recontact agents met last year when we were first browsing in the area, and also send details to real estate specialists too – with the housing market slumping big time some are surely looking at letting out properties sitting empty on their portfolio.
One alarming aspect of the slump however concerns the Euro-Sterling exchange rate. Things are very different to a year ago. However great the cost of living is supposed to be in Spain, things are going to be considerably tighter than we imagined.
Merlin is now certified and fit to travel!
October 2008
As the time for our return to Javea gets closer, our itinerary gets clearer – I am trying to arrange for us to see the widest possible range of places that are within a theoretical 20 minute drive to the school. We find a ‘luxury villa’ that is actually within walking distance of the school – actually it’s the lower half of a villa but it sounds lovely, and its vacant so we arrange to stay there when we visit, we need to register the girls anyway. It’s going to be a crazy few days, luckily it’s just a two of us going. I am spending every evening pouring over property websites, Google earth, regional classified ads, determined to make the most of every second we are in Spain next month, as well as our dwindling budget as sterling continues to plummet against the Euro. Also supplementing said budget and starting to declutter the house via eBay and Amazon marketplace, as well as more philanthropically via endless trips to local charity shops.
We get the loft clear eventually, and the start re-filling it with boxes of books that can’t store in the potentially damp office – I am sooo bad at getting rid of books, and plenty of arguments ensue. We are trying to make the house look huge and elegant, as the ‘To Let’ boards go up outside and we start to get people looking round. Getting some rent coming in is a pretty fundamental part of our plans and the only thing that could seriously scupper us now.
A further milestone for October, I finally drive the Landover. Not very far and I still hate its sheer size and everything being back to front, but at least I can do it! End of the month bad news in the shape of our aupair quitting abruptly. Poor girl is stressed. Too stressed to stick with us for 6 more weeks… Cassie is heartbroken, we are at our wits end, and we grit our teeth as she works her week’s notice without a word of apology.
November 2008
Very tense first few days, as Richard nearly loses his job renegotiating his hours substantially to accommodate our sudden lack of childcare. No way can we make new arrangements for the girls for the few weeks we have remaining, not least as they have a very major disruption coming and already feel bewildered and abandoned. We arrange things between us so Richard works part time and through the weekend, so we just about cover things, but it leaves effectively no time for house clearing or organising.
Early November sees Richard and me back in Javea, with a packed itinerary of viewings. A few things become apparent quickly – the ‘luxury apartment’ is indeed within walking distance of the school but we still wouldn’t live in it if you paid us, also we have to make a choice between a lovely rural environment and being a reasonable distance to school and facilities. Talking to other parents we finally regretfully put our finca dreams on hold in favour of a short school run and being near the beach, and at the last minute of our trip we see the perfect place: 4 beds, walking distance to the Arenal, 5 minutes drive to school and a nice garden. Thank god we found it – contract done and sealed and just in time to make it back to the airport. Took lots of video to show the excited girls, who had had a lovely time being spoiled rotten by their Nana and Stephen for 3 days.
Next day problems – landlord dicking around, trying to renegotiate. Rent was our top dollar, so we compromise over issues like pool cleaning contract. But it all dissolves over the next 48 hours, to the agents’ disgust and our profound disappointment the landlord dithers and pulls out.
Meanwhile we have an offer on our place, which we can’t afford to lose, so now slight panic on the ‘where the ********* we gonna live then!!’ front…. Back to ruthless stalking of agents, landlords, private sellers – from all the agents we met we know many people have properties empty for months without a buyer – and ads in the local classifieds again. No more dawdling over pretty pueblos, we now know exactly what and where we want, and whilst trying to pack up the house with the other hand we frantically hunt for a new house. And deal with a million other overdue tasks on the list that have suddenly become urgent.
An example of a not-atypical November day. Dash to London lugging both laptops for attention of our IT guru, as some mystery bug is slowing them down. Dash back again, and log him in to finish the job remotely, as a conference call is due from solicitor. Solicitor calls, but then suddenly buyer for Toyota turns up hours late, but is actually a real one this time so roll with it! I am on the phone to the solicitor writing our will, Richard is negotiating the sale of the car, and IT guy is texting me instructions when to reboot and log him back in. I interrupt haggle to enquire Richard’s choice of disposal of his mortal remains, he shoves logbook in front of me to sign whilst I am trying to text and dictate simultaneously. When it all stops at around 11, I realise I have probably reformatted the Toyota, cremated the laptop, and left everything to the IT guy. I also haven’t eaten since lunchtime, or done any more packing. Or found us somewhere to live.
Finally, very end of the month, a slightly weird call from a guy who is not sure how he got my number – not unusual the way I have been advertising, enquiring and forum-bashing – who has a couple of properties to let in the area we want. Sadly both way over our budget, but he is friendly and polite and takes the number in case he hears of anything. I am surprised when he rings back a couple days later and tells us we can have his 4 bed villa for our max budget rental (nearly half what he originally quoted)! He has no photos, no email address… it all sounds most unlikely but he agrees to fax over a contract and information. Due to closing the office down I no longer have a fax machine… but Richard is in the shop the next day, and a few phonecalls later we manage to get a long fax transmitted… being a handwritten and heavily altered contract, a set of bank details and photocopy of passport, plus the number of a former tenant in the Uk.
We talk to the former tenant Dot, who is lovely and very helpful, and confirms that the house and landlord are for real and apparently as described… we still have no photograph or anything! He wants a month up front plus 2 months’ deposit – what on earth are we to do?
December 2008
A sleepness night followed by an early morning online, Richard wakes to the announcement that in 2 days time he is going to Javea – for a day. It’s the only conceivable solution – that he goes out, sees the place, meets the landlord etc, THEN we can sign the contract and pay up. I am so furious with myself for being so wet about the driving and therefore unable to go myself!! The landlord is fine with this arrangement, perhaps it’s not an elaborate scam after all?!
A few days later I get the call from Richard’s mobile – he must be there, now I will know if it’s on or off! But it’s to say he’s lost. An hour later though and he is at the house – on a bleak December afternoon, he gets the tour, and calls to tell me all is OK. He signs the contract, and together he and the landlord call Telefonica who confirm 10meg broadband will be installed by the end of the week! He is due home around 10:30, and I wait and wait with the curry going cold and the champagne getting warm, eventually he rolls in around midnight (buying two singles had returned him to a different terminal at Gatwick, which he hadn’t realised till taking the bus out to the wrong carpark!), and I show my appreciation for his endlessly long day by grabbing the camera off him before he sits down. In his other hand are the keys and rental contract. At last, our new house! Thank goodness it has finally finally all come together.
The next week or so is a total blur, of furious packing, sorting, clearing… I have never known a move like it, normally when you move house you just shift drawers etc by taping them closed for the journey – well we do – but this move meant going through EVERYTHING… triaging every single item we own. Do we need this in the next 6 months? If not do we store it – for when we either buy our own place in Spain, or (worst case scenario) have to return here? If we don’t need it in the next 6 months, do we actually need the damn thing at all..? An astonishing amount of stuff falls into this category – so many things are cheerfully given away, (feasible eBaying deadline long since past), donated to charity, or simply slung out, it is both horrifying and liberating the quantity of our possessions lugged down to the local tip. The staff now know me well – because of the roof rack we have to queue in over the weighbridge with the commercial vehicles. At first stuff is neatly sorted by recyclables, but as the deadline for our move gets closer its just binbag after binbag, straight over the wall into the tip. In the final days I develop a growing cold moving into a chest infection, but refuse to acknowledge it, have so much still to do. Work too will not leave me alone, so many other staff on planned or emergency leave and I have to keep dealing with things… It all becomes a surreal blur, a lemsipped-up haze of clearing, chucking, sneezing, cleaning, managing, trying to get all the laundry done, running stuff down to the lockup we have rented for a couple weeks, packing stuff away in the outbuilding that used to be my office.
Finally it’s Friday 12th, and I drive Merlin to Gatwick, where I tearfully hand him over to some cheerful guys at a freight depot, (when I finally find them), and head home – to still far too much to do. I move our single suitcase each round to Nina and Mark’s, where we are spending the next week, and get all the remaining Christmas stuff plus the photos etc we are storing in Wales down to the storage depot. Continuing the furious clearing – how could we possibly own so much stuff? – till school chucking out time, I collect the girls and return them to their new home-around-the-corner. I think at this point I pretty much collapse, leaving Richard to continue the clearing and dumping, I have been running on empty all week and the girls aren’t much better, neither are our hosts, so we take it in turns to pass out on the sofa. A text late that night confirms Merlin’s safe arrival in his new temporary home – ok, I tell myself, that’s 20% of the family successfully emigrated already. Next day it’s all done, cleaners through and tenants in – sorted.
The next week isn’t great – with no disrespect to our generous and lovely hosts, their place just isn’t really big enough for 8 people – 8 and a half I guess – who are taking it in turns to be ill and off sick etc. Cassie is white-faced and big-eyed but absolutely determined to stick out her final week at her old school, and that’s really the only reason we are still in Surrey at this point. Also the famous Green Light-Saros Christmas party – great fun but hard to enjoy feeling so ill, especially as so many people didn’t make it at all. Cassie makes her Christingle and is a rave as Joseph, and finally every project at work gets wrapped up one way or another.
At the end of the week we load up the car, with kids and suitcases and the stuff from the lockup, which had been carefully sorted into ‘take to Wales’ pile vs. ‘take to Spain’ (fortunately to enable outside/24hr access we had been offered a huge unit). As we set off Cassie finally cracks and admits she’s ill, her head exploding with the misery that is a serious earache. A quick drop-in on friends in Nottingham, but quite brief as Cassie is in a lot of pain and quite miserable, Calpol clearly not touching it. Finally reach Newcastle around 11, where my sister in law Ann is a welcome site, with cosy spare beds and blankets, and a hot wheat sack for Cassie’s poor ear.
Next day we visit Richard’s Mum, finally settled into her new supported flat across the road from her old house, it’s very good to see her moved before we go and the place is smart and new. We go via the emergency doc who confirms Cassie’s ear thing is just viral, and indeed having made the decision to call the hospital she does of course seem much improved already. We spend a bit of time hanging out with the oop north branch of the family for a couple days, and Richard manages to take in a match at St James’ Park, then finally we pile everything back in/on the car and do the long ‘hypotenuse’ leg of the triangle down to South Wales.
Arriving there feels like a good milestone achieved, and we get the huge plastic underbed storage things into their final place – these are mainly photos /diaries/letters, things too precious to leave in a rented-out place. It’s great to finally be in a room that is kind of ours, and in a house where there is actually enough room for all of us and our stuff. Christmas things are hastily sorted too, though in a super-organised way this year Santa actually dropped a lot of stuff off already when we were down at half term. Next day, Dec 23rd, I wrap up the last few bits of work whilst R pops to town, he is not so organised and still has Christmas shopping to do. At first I think he must be kidding when he calls to say the car has a serious problem and will not go into gear.
This is a nightmare. Everywhere is shut. R and the Landover are eventually recovered home. He thinks it might be the gear selector plate – apparently fixable – so a lot of calls turn up a connection via some local builders who worked on the house and have tools. Next morning Brian comes round and he and Richard dismantle the gearbox, but turns out the problem is more serious. Brian knows some guys who might be able to fix it, but obviously not till the 27th, and we’re leaving on the 28th! And there is the small matter of finding a suitable gearbox – we are in rural Pembrokeshire on Christmas Eve, and the entire world is now closed for business.
Thank god for eBay. There is someone breaking a landy, our year, with cheap gearbox available… on the downside, it happens to be in bloody Essex. EBay again and we find the only courier prepared to deliver it to us, for practically the cost of a new car… family rally round with support, tissues and gin, but we are all close to hysteria by now. That crossing on the 28th is crucial – I call Eurostar and manage to swap it to an evening crossing (another bill to amend it), but then that’s IT for over-height vehicles till after new year, and Mum and Stephen are flying out with the kids on the 3rd…
It’s certainly the weirdest Christmas eve we’ve ever spent, but trying so hard to be calm/normal/festive for the kids’ sake. Everyone keeps checking santatracker on the internet – ‘he’s in Moscow now!!’ – but all we can wonder about is whether our gearbox has made it across the bridge yet. Kids hang stockings and sing songs, Christmas in Wales is always a brilliant family affair, but feel so detached from it this year… eventually everyone goes to bed, but Richard and I wait up, dozing on the settee, until finally around 3am our Santa arrives, in an estate car not a sleigh, bearing a greasy old gearbox that we hope is exactly what we wanted.
Christmas itself is a chance to relax a bit, trying to make like it’s all going to be fine… my Mum always does spectacularly well with the dinner etc. Boxing day is sunny and bright and we head to Whitesands, however both our girls manage to end up sat down/fallen over in rockpools within 10 minutes, so we fend off hypothermia in the coffee shop – thank god its open – frustrated at being dependent on lifts home and longing for the kids to be able to play on WARM beaches soon.
Next day Richard heads off early with Brian to see the guys who are going to fix our new gearbox. Apparently it’s generally a 3 day job; they know they have exactly 1. I bite my nails at home and sort out final packing and laundry – getting Cassie’s big coat clean and dry after her impromptu swim the day before. Nearly have nervous breakdown when R calls to say there is a nut on the old gearbox that won’t budge, so they haven’t got it off yet – this is around 4pm! But eventually he calls back, it’s sorted. He is hanging around the freezing barn all day whilst they work, running out for takeaways etc to keep them on task. He is able to pop back for an hour or so for dinner and update and final group prayer that it will get done, then Mark runs him back to collect the car around midnight.
After that, the journey truly starts…
