The idea of moving to France, starting a new life together as a family, spending more time with the children and each other running a business which we believed in, sounded wonderful when we discussed it over a glass of wine at the end of increasingly busy weeks juggling children and work; never feeling that we could fully do justice to everything we tried to squeeze in. The reality of actually setting off on that journey is not so wonderful. We have decided to put everything we’ve got into pursuing the dream; selling our house in the UK to fund a new home and business in France. The anxiety dreams have already started; I have a recurring one of losing my children in the supermarket and not being able to find help because no-one understands me.
I worked in France many years ago on a campsite and accompanied customers to GPs, hospitals, police stations, several repair garages and even emergency dentists so why I think I wouldn’t be able to deal with that situation I don’t know. But it reflects the feeling of being on a countdown; we have accepted an offer on our house, provided that goes through we will be leaving our home where we have been very happy and to which we brought both our babies home from hospital (I can remember, in that new Mum haze, thinking as we stopped outside the house when we first brought our daughter home ‘I hope she likes it’). I am looking forward to starting our new life but am becoming increasingly aware of the many things I love about the one we have now. Are they enough to keep us here? No, but they are enough to make leaving a bittersweet experience.