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We've been over here for a while now, and we have been pretty happy in our rented house: our landlord is lovely, the house is large, the rent is cheap, the view is lovely and the area is awesome. 

We were in no hurry to move.

I offer this by way of introduction because two weeks ago, while I was waiting for my Singapore Noodles at the local takeaway, I flicked through a free property magazine and found what, on closer inspection, turned out to be damn near our perfect house.

Act 1: Finding The Perfect House

It met our simple, but niche, list:

- Does it have a double garage?
- Does it have a killer view of the sea?

No really, that's the list, everything else is optional, and as luck would have it we were planning on being free at just the time of the open home two days later.

We were the only people at the open home; and maybe it was the banter of having our friends along for comedy support, or perhaps the dedicated KY Jelly drawer, maybe it was the two fully made up beds locked away in cupboards in the attic, or even the glorious winter sunshine, but by the time we left, I was utterly hooked.

We put in a cheeky offer and lo, it was accepted.

And we were a little spooked by the fact that we were about to part with our entire savings, but this is Olive exploring in the "front garden"

And having something like this quite literally at the bottom of the garden path has an uncanny way of making you overlook small things like financial security.

Unfortunately what should have been the end of the story was only the start.

Act 2: The Moving Date

In about a month we will be back in the UK for a visit while a lovely couple house sit.

My plan, before my eventful visit to the chippy, was to pack in a leisurely and thorough way, befitting my status as project manager and supremo parent.


We're moving on the 24th of July.

That's next Friday, and as I sit here not packing in a house full of unboxed crap, I am wondering whether we may finally have run out of talent in the plate spinning department.

I'm pretty sure I'm going to forget something spectacularly important over the next month, and I'm genuinely surprised by the fact that I'm totally fine with that.

Maybe I'm finally becoming a proper kiwi, but suddenly my outlook on the whole thing can be summarised as "she'll be right".

There is one area about which I am less relaxed, and that is

Act 3: The Garden

But that is a story for another post when I know how the story ends. 

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