After months of willing the dream into life…

…our trip to France was the cresting of a peak. We loved the house, we adored the area, it was heart-rending to leave. Our hopes about the dream being a possibility have turned into confidence, support coming from all sides and silencing my own ever-creeping doubts about whether we’d be able to make a living. We’ve already made good impressions and struck up good relationships and our Always Be Human approach has paid off in the total lack of game-playing and non-existence of any shenanigans so that even when we discovered there was competition for the house that can build our dreams the experience was progressive rather than stressful. It prompted us to ask the right questions of ourselves. Do we want this? What would we do to get this? Are we willing to risk losing this? And if the trip itself, the viewings, the discussions, the drawing up of designs and scratching away at the business plan over sweet sparkling wine and coffee and under tired eyes was us cresting the peak then the time since has been an exercise in giving ourselves over to momentum. We might have delayed putting on an offer but with the interest we had to act. We might have ummed and ahhed endlessly but with needing to put the offer forward we acted with our instincts. The wonderful things people have said have built up our confidence so that we are hungrier than ever to just jump in and get going. But after all that pushing up the hill it’s hard to let go and allow our plans to run themselves, and even thinking about what to write about now is bringing us up short. Mortgage conversations are going on, and we’re waiting to hear. The contractual arrangements are beginning and we’re waiting to hear. The EU referendum nurdles closer, and we’re waiting to hear. And our house is on the market and we’re waiting to hear. It says a lot that despite coming back home and wanting never to hit the DIY again, our ‘in waiting’ status makes putting up paneling, painting floorboards and wallpapering into something we’re happy to do. Or if not happy, then at least drawing something from. I can’t bear the waiting, the holding our breath. And working does at least mean in those moments I’m not waiting. But it feels harder now, it feels like the kids are suffering more now, and anyway it isn’t changing the things that I can’t change anyway as we wait to hear whether there’s any interest in the house. It’s heart in mouth time and while I can see Jen is getting stuck into the planning – everything from home decor mood boards to selections of finishing materials – I can’t ever manage to quell that swelling, worrying, holding-back-the-excitement feeling at the point where my throat is juggling my heart. I feel the momentum building, I can feel the dream opening up and being realised, I can feel the progress building and building and building but the reins are on and until the things I can’t do anything about begin to bend a little more our way I’m not sure how to let that positive forward motion gallop onwards.



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