So the deadline grows ever closer. Its a flipping nightmare, let me tell you. We make the decision, tell the kids, and then over night the doubt creeps in and we second guess that decision.
I say the doubt creeps in, it’s more like a big grey monster with a wet fish called Doubt that he slaps right across the side of your face. Makes you second guess everything.
The little Larges have been convinced, I think it was the thought of a Private school that did it for them. As Benji said “that sounds Posh”. I don’t think he appreciated the skills he was taught as his old Italian school. Harry is just agreeing with everything right now. I have no idea why and I’m sure all will become apparent soon enough.
How easy it is to give advice. If a friend of mine said they had this opportunity I’d tell them to grab it and run. Don’t look back. Everything would work out fine. How many of us would actually listen to our own advice? Do we still live by what we would tell others? If we don’t appear supportive we worry and therefore give what is possibly bad advice? Hmm, this is too deep for a Sunday.
1 day, that’s what’s left to decide our future. The future of the Raptors. The future of the dogs. And the Cat, I’ve even worried what the cat will think.
Benji goes to secondary school in three years, how will he adjust if we come back then. You should hear how Dave moans about going half way round the world via all methods of transportation. Legs, car, bus, tram, train, motorbike and subsequently air. (He once got knocked over by a motorbike that sent him flying. Most of you will know the story as he’s bound to have told you. If not, just you wait, your time will come)
I love Sicily, I love the people there and the people we met. Anyone we had a problem with had a British accent and likely to boil a bunny at any given moment. We British appear to be very snobby when it comes to travelling across the world and yet I’m not sure why when you look at the amount of rubbish here that litters the rural lanes.
Warmth, the Husband is obsessed with the warmth. Apparently it’s got something to do with the fact he’s Mediterranean. He gets the right ‘ump if you point out that technically it should only be 1/4 of him that needs to be warm considering this is the amount of him that is Mediterranean. I’m distantly Irish but you don’t see me claiming to need Potatoes all day long.
Either way we choose we are aware of the disappointment we will be causing. It’s not an easy thing to live with. And yet, who are our biggest concerns? Shouldn’t it be how we feel? not worry about how others are disrupted by what we choose?
I think the thought of clearing out all the house is scaring me silly. It’s not till you move that you realise you’ve got a hoarding addiction much worse than any problem Steptoe had. I just have to look in my bedside cabinet at the cough sweets that expired in 2014 (a year after our last move). I know, I know I should really chuck them away. My Nan though was feeding my brother and I the same pack of sticky barley sugars and Tunes right through the 80’s and 90’s. We survived that although we now have very few teeth left.
Anyway, I could ramble on for hours and as Dave probably stopped reading 9 paragraphs ago, I’ve gone on too long.
Have a lovely Sunday people.
Ciao for now!