Published on February 19th, 2015 | by Keith McClellan0
Moving House – A Dream Realised by John Herman
Many people say that the experience of moving house is beset with endless problems. But my experience could not have been more different; moving to this beautiful home has made all my dreams come true.
The idyll began when I discovered one Saturday evening that I had won a large sum of money in the Lottery. Louise and I knew immediately what we would do. We would sell our little terraced cottage in the gloomy back streets of the industrial town where we had both been born and we would move to the Cotswolds.
Living in the Cotswolds had been a dream we had shared over many years. Quickly we got in touch with a selection of the rather more exclusive Cotswold Estate Agents and began our search. On our very first visit we came across this house – a gracious mill house of honeyed local stone and mullioned windows, nestling in a wooded valley where we would be lulled to sleep on summer evenings by the laughter of our very own brook. There was a sunlit garden, a greenhouse with vines and a paddock where we could keep a pony. We fell in love with the place immediately; we knew it was meant to be ours.
We would have the new house redecorated from top to bottom according to a scheme prepared for us by a top London interior designer. All the furnishings and pictures would be new so we engaged an expert to guide us around the best Cotswold sale rooms and advise us on the most tasteful purchases to enhance our new home and impress our visitors.
For us, moving to the Cotswolds would not pose any major problems. We would just ask a local house clearance contractor to take everything out of our old home; we would no longer need any reminders of our old impoverished life. Our old tabby cat would be sent to the Cat Rescue Centre; when we arrived in the Cotswolds we would buy a dog which we could take across the fields on long country walks and a pony to ride along the country lanes.
The sun would shine all summer long and in the winter the thick stone walls of our home would protect us against the cold. We would make new friendships. We would invite our neighbours to admire our picture perfect new home and share the generous hospitality which we could now afford.
Life would be good. We would live the dream, every moment of every perfect day
I suddenly become aware of a sharp pain in my ribs. It’s Valerie, poking me with her elbow.
“Come on Reg, wake up. It’s half past six and pouring with rain. Go downstairs, feed the cat and bring me a cup of tea”.