Posts Tagged ‘in-laws

Halloo dear readers. Look, a post! A real, live braindribbles post! Alas no pictures – I pressed that new button on the WordPress home page and it’s confused me a little. Can’t seem to ‘save draft’ while I hunt down the relevant pictures. Oh well.

So, to fill you in, we are in that interim period. We are out of Bedfordshire and in Buckinghamshire, just not in the new place quite yet.

My fabulous in-laws are putting us up in the meantime. Rental was a possibility but frighteningly expensive…monthly rental on a two-bed flat would have been almost twice as much as our old mortgage, which was a four-bed detached. Loved one persuaded me that it would be OK with the in-laws. He was right, from our perspective, though I do worry about their blood pressure with three children haring around the place.

Anyhow, whilst it’s nice and relaxing spending time with the in-laws, who are the sort who make life easier rather than harder – in both the physical and metaphorical sense – it’s still very odd actually living here. I can’t seem to establish a routine or get a sense of normal.

Of course, that’s not helped by the fact that the kids have no school as yet. There seem to be no free places in any schools around here at the moment. I’ve got to the point where I’m giving up trying, and muddling through a bit of home education till we get into the new place…at which point we make a real fight to get them into the local school. With claws out, if it comes to it. (I hope it doesn’t, mind you, but I suspect it probably will.)

My own studies, unsurprisingly, are suffering…but last week I found a great childminder to look after smallest one once or twice a week. So that should pick up again. That is, if I can persuade the older ones to get on with their workbooks in the local library without bothering me, anyway.

So it’s tricky.

Having said that, the in-laws live right in the country. The views, the sky at night, the peace and quiet, mother-in-law’s old-fashioned yet delicious home cooking every other night, the sense of outside space is all to die for. We’ll miss all of that when we move into semi-suburbia.

I won’t miss sharing a room with smallest one, though. She’s waking every time I turn in bed, wanting a cuddle.

Nor will I miss the sense of limbo. A little home security goes a long way.

And I Just. Can’t. Wait. to sleep in my own bed again…


A little postscript for my regular readers. Thanks for bearing with me for the weeks of no posting. Can’t promise another post all that soon, but don’t unsubscribe just yet! Things will return to normal, and positivity will eventually rule!


Yes, we’ve exchanged contracts on our house sale.  It was in the offing all last week, but nevertheless a considerable weight was lifted from our shoulders when our solicitor rang at 9.05 a.m. last Friday to give us the news.

We have another month before we complete, and you can never be sure of anything these days, but it is still some kind of a milestone and means we have a tiny bit more ammunition for the school admissions officials.

In the meantime, I’m trying to work out what to take with us to the in-laws, what to put into storage till we can move into the new place, and what to sneakily throw away while nobody is looking.

So far my latter pile is far too small.  It doesn’t help that the kids are on school holiday, so I can’t get rid of their junk quite as easily as I’d hoped. The British Heart Foundation are coming to take away a big heap of furniture in a week’s time though.  The trick will be to hack a way through the garage junk to make it possible for them to remove the relevant items.

Maybe once I have access to the dark depths of the  garage I can stealthily donate a few more boxes to charity. I’m messy, but when I de-clutter I’m ruthless.  I’m especially ruthless with other people’s possessions.  Even more so when such items have been gathering dust in the garage for a good five years without being missed.  I say this; loved one has a knack for spotting what’s gone, and very impressive look of outrageous indignation.  I reckon he must have played those visual memory games a lot as a kid.

I had some boxes delivered for packing the items to take to the in-laws. The best ones of all are the wardrobe boxes – particularly fabulous for playing peekaboo with a one-year-old. The cardboard door will swing naturally shut, then suddenly swoosh open with a big ‘beebo’, a huge grin and lots of giggles.

OK, so moving house is stressful, but it’s also fun.

I’m off now to sneak some items into the charity box while loved one’s away. (Shhh, don’t tell.)

I couldn’t help but post a status update on Facebook when our offer was finally accepted (yes, the one I had already re-designed the kitchen for).  So it’s probably no longer a surprise to most of you.  But I have to admit, even though it could all go horribly wrong, it is wonderful to be out of property limbo at last.

It reminds me a little of when loved one proposed to me all those years ago.  He likened it – after the hankies had been handed out – to pressing the ‘go’ button on the wedding plan.  It all began, and didn’t stop till we were married.

And indeed, within an hour of the offer being accepted, I’d phoned the solicitor, emailed a couple of surveyors for quotes, ditto for the removal company, and by 9.30 this morning I’d arranged the mortgage application appointment and been contacted by all three schools within walking distance.  My ear is hot from having a phone surgically attached to my ear and my back aching from being hunched over the laptop emailing non-stop.

Unfortunately, all the local schools are full for the years that middle and oldest ones will be coming into.  We solved the rental issue, though.  For the two months or so, loved one’s darling parents have kindly agreed to have us stay with them. This will save us a couple of thousand pounds. It also puts us in the correct local authority for schools, although unfortunately it won’t get us into the right catchment.

I reckon what will swing the schools will be the attitude of the council officer in charge of our case. If they understand and they are on our side, they will find a way to make it work for us.

If they don’t, well, I might find myself fumbling around the world of home education until a suitable solution is found.  And, as was pointed out to me this morning, a couple of months’ break from the rigours of school life won’t ruin them.

To be honest, if we were trying to rent in a strange new place as well, the concept of home educating would just be too much, especialy when I have my own studies to consider. But anticipating the calming presence of my mother-in-law has made me feel it could be a possibility.

But only if absolutely necessary. Let’s hope the council come up trumps and magic me up a couple of school places.