The Leaving of Lewiston

It was a bright crisp day in November and the thermometers were registering minus 4. Moving day has arrived along with winter. The new car was covered in frost, Lotte seemed naked and shivering having had her cover removed, inside a worrying mix of condensation and ice.

We were moving out the rest of our things and doing the final clear-up as the new people were moving in – we were gradually retreating to the back of the house and it felt a bit like we were being squeezed out the back door under the pressure of their things. Along the way ownership of the property changed – legally at 2pm when the final exchange was actioned by our respective agents, emotionally as the house gradually filled with the stuff and the smells of other people.

Pack the van, pack the car, load the bicycles on the roof, hitch up and drive away.

No time to look back.

We didn’t go very far – our first night we are spending at Borlum campsite, within sight of Lewiston. This is amusing the locals – word is we are moving to France, but as far as they can see we haven’t got very far yet.

We’re a bit tired tonight, neither elated nor apprehensive, a bit emotional too (I almost cried when Aggie used the litter tray for the first time, and not because I was going to have to clear up a mess – didn’t realise how much her potential caravan-bound behaviour was worrying me). Not that I am under any illusions we are there yet. Tomorrow will dawn crisp and fair again, and if the water has not frozen overnight we will be looking forward to a new day.

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