Au revoir et bienvenue ; part 1
The removals lorry has been blocking the road outside your front door for three hours, and neighbours are getting a tad miffed at having to find an alternative route to the shops. The driver and his lads deal with this on a daily basis, and for them it’s water off a canard’s back - as is driving through the night to France to then unload the whole lot again. For you however, the excitement of heading off to your new vie francais is morphing into panic as you’ve still got a thousand things to squeeze into the remaining space.
What makes things worse is the blinding hangover and the accompanying nausea brought on by the previous evening’s farewell do. You’ve deleted the dodgiest photos from your iphone before the kids turn them into a viral sensation - and with luck will you’ll never have to see Trevor from No. 13 again (who’d have thought that he and Marjorie had such a bizarre pastime) - but the prospect of a 10 hour car journey and the need to get to your new home before the furniture arrives is less than appealing.
Still, an hour later it’s time to go. Shaking off the tearful embrace of your more aged relatives, you gently reassure them that you’ll only be a short flight away. Which in fact they know anyway, having already booked their tickets and decided to pay you a surprise visit 3 days after you get to your new home - the fact that it’s barely habitable, will be full of your unpacked boxes and that you’ll be sorting out a thousand other things being matters blissfully ignored.
Finally you shoehorn children and dogs into an already full car, take a deep breath and head south towards a new life. And don’t worry – like it or not, a surprising amount of the old one is coming with you too.