Dismantling a life - part 2

I am sitting in an empty house, putting off cleaning windows and skirting boards for another hour. We have 4 suitcases and 3 beds, 2 folding garden chairs and a portable DVD player. That's about it. The beds will be picked up over the next 2 days, the chairs will be donated, and then we move on to a serviced apartment in Derby, then the Heathrow Novotel (via Legoland), and then onto our plane - homeward bound.

I have felt strangely serene since the packers took away most of our stuff. Now I can see past the piles of accumulated possessions to the final tasks in our move. The smallest details occupy my mind in the wee small hours - where is my Australian mobile sim card, what is my Westpac pin number, how can I thank all Dylan's teachers and friends and school?

Dylan told everyone at school on Monday that we were leaving the next day. I can see how he made the mistake - the momentum of the sorting and packing over the weekend, knowing the shippers were coming that day and the repeated mantra "not long now..." whenever he fussed. But his headmistress cornered me on Tuesday morning to say goodbye, along with all the parents and other teachers. She was visibly relieved when I explained he would be there until Friday, as his favourite teacher from last term, Mrs Fearn, had been almost in tears at the thought she wouldn't be able to say goodbye to him.

Maybe he is just milking the attention for all it's worth. But there is no doubt that the emotional strain of another move is also showing in him. Sam of course, has no clue what is happening - except that most of his toys have vanished. He seems to be just as happy playing with an empty toilet roll and a toothbrush though.

Dylan's first words as he came home from school on Monday were "let's play trains!" I explained the trains were gone, in the container. "Oh. Well, can I ride my scooter?" Also gone. "What? Well can I have some juice in the spiral cup?" Also gone. Even his bed sheets had been packed, he is sleeping under a naked duvet. We had the momentary "where's bunny?" panic that night, wondering if Sam's essential best friend bunny had also been shipped in the container by mistake. But thankfully Sam had just carefully packed bunny into his on-board-wheelie-suitcase.

One of Dylan's last English adventures was a boys weekend in London with Daddy. Very grown up, taking the train down and staying in a hotel for the night. I was rather jealous! They managed to fit in the Tower of London, Changing of the Guards, Buckingham Palace, Science Museum and of course Hamley's - as well as rides on buses, tubes, taxis and trains. Hamley's ("the world's finest toy store") will remain Dylan's all time favourite thing about this country, and I wonder if it will be his first stop when he returns aged 18 with a backpack, in his gap year?

Dismantling a life

We have less than two weeks left in Yew Tree Cottage. My heart sinks as I type this fact. Mainly because the sorting and the packing looms largely above me, but also because I really will miss this cosy cottage. And lately it has seemed far more important to enjoy these last few days watching the horses practise their jumps outside the conservatory window, or play swirly tennis with Dylan and Sam in the garden, or discover yet another fabulous national trust home on our doorstep, than actually getting down to the nuts and bolts of dismantling our life here.

I have already had 14 successful eBay auctions, and promised most of the furniture to an assortment of friends. The rest can go to charity shops (or be dumped with those same friends) in our last week. The packers arrive next Monday morning to send the things we do want to keep back to Sydney on a slow boat.

The only logistical hiccup seems to be getting rid of the two cars - not only have we not had a single call from our autotrader ad, but one also suffered some serious rear bumper damage last week when some @#$% swiped it reversing out of the carpark. No note was left, so we must suffer the excess and also the trauma of convincing the garage to fit it in for repair before a buyer (hopefully) appears.

We have had so many uniquely English experiences that it seems appropriate to list them now, before I forget in the trauma of my post-long-haul-flight-with-kids-disorder...

• Playing russian roulette turning right on a hedge lined road (I now wind down my windows so I can hear oncoming traffic, since I have no hope of seeing it until it is too late)


• Long summer evenings (pretending it is warm) enjoying a pint of local ale while the kids play on the pub's playground equipment


• Watching "our" horses gallop across "our" field as the sun sets over the hills


• Waking up to a pile of dry laundry on the Aga, which if I fold it correctly (it's a knack) doesn't need ironing


• Scrambled eggs made from freshly laid eggs by the chooks next door (thanks to Farmer Les for dropping them around)


• The delights of an Ocado delivery (friendly, prompt, with divine Waitrose food sorted into colour coded bags and delivered to my fridge)


• The school run, through winding tree tunnels, spotting sheep and cows amidst the dramatic peaks and dales

And what will the boys miss? Sam will wonder where all the tractors, sheep and cows are. But he will love pointing at the planes and buses instead. Dylan will miss his mates, it has to be said. And he will miss the history and museums we have been able to enjoy. But I think a ferry ride, a trip to the beach, chicken and chips from Balmain Spitroast, and a decent coffee from Hopscotch will make us all very, very happy indeed.