Headed "Home"

A couple more pictures from the closing days of living at the Silverwoods. Another shot of the newly decorated kitchen and the new colour "cookie dough" which we described as melted chocolate ice cream. There aren't many colours available yet in the Dulux paint-pod range but this is a nice one. Anyway, Mum's main colour scheme for the Roscommon house looks like being white, which is in the range. That and varnished / oiled wood. Dad likes this scheme as it will be reminiscent of the barge!

The other picture is of the current main blogging laptop after it was hit by a tsunami of tea when little M Silverwood swung the school bag a bit vigorously near the dining room table and took out Mrs S's new, hot, fresh. big cup of tea. The laptop was immediately turned off and dried out, dismantled by Mr S and checked, put back together whereupon it, fortunately, worked. The decorating work is now finished for now, with the skirting boards now varnished, the dado rail gloss dark brown ("bitter chocolate"), some more cookie dough on the kitchen window reveals.

Dad also free-handed some dark brown stripes where bits of dado were missing upstairs (wall cut away to allow for new stairs to loft extension where currently live Em-J and J-M plus rabbits Padfoot and Ginny. These I can smell and hear from the main landing but frustratingly cannot get up the ladder-cum-steep-stairs to get at them. Anyway I am generally restricted to the ground floor by the stairs gate at the bottom of the stairs following rumours the other day that it might have been me poo-ing in M's room.

Ah well, as I said, coming to the end now of our stay at Silverwoods. Tomorrow Dad flies 'home' to Gatwick and we are left in the capable hands of the Silverwoods who are joking (we hope) about painting us different colours. It's been a nice three weeks with plenty to do and lots of variety. For Dad, too, a nice chance to work hard and feel useful after the weeks of knocking around playing Scrabble at Pud Lady's. Soon it will be the full and final proper emigration date, when Mum and Dad catch the ferry back again and we are all Irish residents. Shortly after that Dad will organise the "Big Green Lorry" boys (see earlier posts) to bring our "stuff" over and we will then be all moved and ready to start Project Erroll in earnest. Erroll, incidentally, is now a pretty redundant name, being (nearly) the name of one of the first houses we tilted at. Should probably be called Project Roscommon!

Incidentally, these moves may make it difficult in the short term to get access to a PC and this blog. We may have to prevail upon Diamond for some lap top time.

Deefs

International Finance

More hum drum here in terms of living - walks, meals etc - so I thought I'd give you an update from the world of International Finance. Irish house buying law works a bit bizarrely compare to the UK in that the two sides do not 'exchange' on the same day. The buyer has to make a firm, legally binding commitment to buy the property (that "Contract of Sale" Mum and Dad signed last week) but the vendor is not similarly tied in for several weeks. Everyone seems to agree that this is weird and a bit unfair on the buyer but it's Irish law and no-one has been able to change it. I guess 50% of those affected (the vendors) like it like that and if you are in a chain I guess it doesn't matter; it'd be like swings and round abouts.

At the time of the CoS, we have to pay a good lump of the money across - normally 10% or so, but in our case, because we've sold the Faversham place and have the money sitting there, we decided to pay it all across and the conveyancing fees. So that's where we are, pretty much all paid up and waiting for the other side to get through the searches (bankruptcy, good 'title', rights of way etc) so that they can give us the keys and, presumably, deeds and documents to prove we own it.

This gives us a strange one-step-removed feeling which is a bit frustating and we can't wait to get in there and start. The only timings we have to go on are some original predictions (the source of which we cannot now remember; possibly the Irish solicitors) of 6-8 weeks from start, which we calender'd out to 2nd Dec, and a more recent promise that we'd be in by Christmas. The solicitor has now transferred all the money and correspondence to what our lovely contact, Mary Rose, amusingly calls "the other side" along with something called the "Closing Searches for completion and return" and ends "We look forward to hearing from you with Closing Documents and Keys to the property". Woo hoo! Mary Rose promises to "let (us) know the minute the keys and documents arrive!!!" which is fairly exciting if a bit woolly in terms of timings and deadlines.

Chuggin' on

Deefs

And they Waddled Away

Our final full day at this address, and it's as hot and stupifying as all the previous week, making us all just feel like a good lie down instead of an arduous day's packing, cleaning and preparing to move out. Mum attacks the kitchen cupboards assisted by the Angel Betty and Dad sets about the greenhouse and shed. The new buyers are due to arrive at 11 to help Jezz-the-Windows in removing the bay window main panel once again, so that they can lift their sofa in. They have 2 sofas, but they decide that only one will really fit inside the room, so the buyer's Ma and Pa are collecting the other one later. The buyers decide to wait here, so they end up helping Dad clear the Greenhouse.

Eventually Ma and Pa arrive , the spare sofa is loaded and they are out of here till tomorrow when they actually take over the property. Mum and Dad get stuck into dump runs and final blitzing, working their ways in from the periphery to the hall then the front door assigning all the remaining stuff to one of the three cars, to 'give away' or to the tip. By about 2 the heat's getting too much for any of us and we all retreat for a good lie down.

The Angel B comes up trumps with an offer of supper and drinks. Mum and Dad jump at the chance to sit in proper comfortable chairs and eat at a table - they are all getting a bit fed up of camping and eating off paper plates on their knees on folding chairs..

And so to the final night here, on the mattress on the main bedroom floor. Tomorrow is a day for the final few dump runs, cramming everything that's left into the cars and getting them dispersed off the drive. This has to be by 13:00 legally, but Dad has arranged with the buyers that we all meet in the drive for a hand over at some point late morning.

Sadly, Dear Reader, this will also be cause of a break in transmission. As Dad finishes his contract with British Telecom and they turn off the landline, so too does the broadband service get turned off. We will be unable to see the internet for a few days till we get a broadband Wi-Fi dongle sorted out, so no more Deefer-Dawg for a few days. We have tried to get this sorted in this town but the only mobile phone shop here is run by an inept 12 year old with the intelligence of a ham sandwich, so we have not succeeded so far. When we pop up again it will be on the new email address (not that you'll need to know that). Meanwhile, not much point commenting on this blog through normal channels - email us off line if you want us to know anything

So, for now, wish us all luck and good fortune in our moving about, hoping that we stay safe and return to normal transmissions as soon as possible in the Brand New Life. Project Erroll is game on!

See you soon

Deefs

Jezz the Window

Sorry if this is a bit of a bizarre, snatched image of a man apparently holding nothing recognisable in a living room. If the photographer had had any idea how to take a good picture you'd realise that it is Jezz-the-Window holding one end of our 3-seat sofa, while the other end rests on the window sill, which is currently open to the elements because Jezz has just deftly removed the glazed panel. Dad has just lifted that up there and is meant to be racing round outside to grab the outer end to help Jezz hoof it out into the front garden but has sneakily paused to take this picture leaving poor Jezz holding his end up. Suffice to say that the sofa is now out of the house and the window is re-instated.

That job done we head for the allotments for probably the last time ever to pull the last of the onions and dig the last spuds. We took the wheel barrow and therein lies the reason why we did it today - you need a barrow to do it sensibly and the barrow will shortly be off into storage along with all the other furniture and house-stuff. Anyway, the onions needed pulling - it is about now that if they are still in the ground they start to re-root and to bolt, and also to go soft with basal rot at the bottoms. You need to haul them out and invert them in the sun (in our case in the greenhouse) to dry the roots out, stop the bolt and stop the rot; to 'ripen' them in fact.

I say 'all the furniture and house stuff'. Well, that's not quite true. Dad decides that there are items lying around which are 'clutter' and would be better off left behind, so the best bet, as we know form experience' is to create a pile on the front drive labelled 'free to a good home' and let the locals give it an onward journey. Out goes the old deep and heavy wide screen TV, the video player, its stand/base and video drawer and all the videos (Yes, Mum said, even the Shakespeare ones; this is a serious de-clutter). Up from the shed comes Dad's old pair of skis and ski poles not used for 20 years or so. Down from the loft comes the cat basket, a kiddies high-chair, a wine rack, the ski boots and gloves , the bass guitar amp and a big old picture of a dolphin, framed and again, not seen for decades. By evening we have only the dodgy wine rack and the video drawer/TV stand thingy.

Dad then has to make a million phone calls to utility companies to tell them we're moving out, and ends up scranny over the number of answerphone options he has had to battle through. To be fair you can now 'move house' using their websites and this is very well set up on most of them. We get a nice walk round the boat yard later on in the evening, before Dad cooks himself a thawed out chilli (trying to empty the freezer too!) and we all watch the Irish RTE programme "Late Late Show" with Ryan Tubridy on RTE's version of i-player. Can I just say how funny it was when Dad decided he'd watch TV, grabbed the listings mag and walked through to the living room only to find no sofa and no TV! Do I come here often?

Haha!

Deefs

My 5th Birthday !!

Dad and 2CV Llew take off for a bit more sailing. It's a lovely day and there's a nice warm breeze which is in a reasonably firmly fixed direction so perfect for Dad to get some more practice in at being 'skipper'. Watch that foresail 'luff' (leading edge) in case it starts to shiver - then bear away, keep and eye on the wind indicator vane on the mast head, heeling is good, keep red buoys to your left and green to your right when heading 'upstream' into the Creek, keep and eye on the depth sounder, stay focused when going about or you'll end up doing a 180 (or more!). There's a lot to remember, most of which is coming back to Dad from his student Lark-dinghy gravel-pit sailing days. One last lesson which neither of these would be salty sea dogs remembered was that if you buy shiny new life jackets, meaning to look a bit more professional and be a bit safer, they don't do a lot of good still left in their pristine packets down on the ship's bunk. Whoops.

I am 5 today. Hasn't the time flown by? Happy Birthday to me. I dare say there will be raw pork rib 'Birthday Cake' in the picture somewhere today although Mum is deserting us, off for a wee holiday with Diamond (Yeah, I know, I'm phoning the RSPCA right now).

Project Erroll is now in a rather bizarre state. Mum and Dad have signed all the legal docs for the UK end of the thing and handed them in to the Solicitor in Ashford but have not heard anything definite about having "exchanged" per se. They are assuming they will get a 'congratulations' email or phone call from said legal beagle to say "You have now exchanged with a completion date of xxx". Either way, they have now felt safe enough to risk the booking deposit on the purchase in Ireland and to have selected and engaged a solicitor over there, so that the ball has started rolling with a possible completion date over there of early December. The 2nd is being talked about. They just wish the English side would set a bit more firmly to take away the nagging fear that it might still all go Pete Tong.

Happy but Trepidatious Birthday to me?

Deefer (5)

Rest and Elevate

Ever since Mum was attacked by the Mozzies-from-Hell in Yorkshire whilst narrow-boating and had her ankle blister up like a balloon animal Haggis has faithfully followed the medical advice given to her at the time by local doc, "Rest and elevate the leg". Haggis took to lying in bed in such a way that he could raise his upper leg and rest it delicately on the edge of the bed. He also lies on the sofa by cushions etc in such a way that this position can also be adopted. The 2nd pic is my newly adopted favourite chair. Note by the way our silken, sparkly white fur. We are both fresh from the shampooing of our lives, meted out by Dad on the instruction of "She who decides when we are too mingin' ."

Talking of resting, Haggis declined his walk today, his chin glued to the bed. Dad sometimes gives him the choice nowadays, especially if he's had a big walk the day before. He's 15 now and deserves a bit of rest and recouperation. Last time we walked through the Cemetery we came alongside the Orient Express train waiting there before being allowed to continue into Faversham Station. When it finally glid very very gently into motion (can't be spilling all that lovely china now!) Haggis looked at it as if recalling the trains he used to energetically chase. He doesn't chase the trains any more, the old boy.

Meanwhile (cue dramatic music) things is happening in project Erroll. Mum and Dad have now received contracts of sale to sign and Transfer of Deeds documents to sign and get witnessed. We are, we hope, closing in on an actual exchange of contracts. Meanwhile we have set the next stage in motion, with Dad getting quotes for solicitors over in Ireland and finding out how to start the 'booking deposit' process for giving them some money. We are fingers, toes, paws, tails and everything else crossed for a successful conclusion to this, maybe by Christmas. Will it be? We can barely start hoping to believe it.

We are amused to learn that the people who outbid us for the last house failed, in the end, to raise the money and have had to pull out, dropping that one back onto the market. Mum and Dad both suspected that one was a bit dubious, especially when a house on the market for a year suddenly had three competing bidders in an 'auction' against Mum and Dad. Well, says Dad. It can be a 'Plan B' again but if anyone thinks we're still 'in' at the higher price, they can think on. We're not being messed about again.

Deefs

Bike

A quick picture of some recent allotment product - about half the onion crop and the first 6 feet or so of spud row. This is probably the end of allotmenting here what with Project Erroll an' all. We will clear the ground and hand the plot back to the committee for re-letting. There's plenty of demand, with a waiting list of 45 people at present (about 2 years).

Today Dad digs the old mountain bike out of the shed. It's not a bad one and it's in reasonable condition (certainly hasn't been worn out by Dad since we've lived here anyway!) but 10 years languishing in the shed has it very dirty and with 2 flat tyres; in need of a good old service and some TLC. Mum has given Dad the name of a firm that sounds just the job. Mum's place have linked up with a volunteer outfit designed to give some of their former 'service users' a foothold on the climb back into paid employment. They refettle and recycle bikes and sell them on to generate a bit of money.

You can buy done-up bikes from them or use them as a repair service. Their mission, said one of them to Dad is that if a bike has survived 20 years, then they should get it into a state where it can survive another 20 years. Thanet Cycle Recycle is their name and they are based in a little unit in the maze of one-way backstreets of Margate. Fair play to them! Dad's bike is now in their tender loving care getting 'done up'. The plan is to use it much more both in here and in Ireland by way of being good exercise but also cheap and green as befits the new non-earning status.

Talking of Project Erroll, we progress through the legal sausage machine, occasionally getting new questions and demands fired out, to which we reply. The latest concerned the current house having been built on an extinct brickyard which means that it might just have 'environmental pollution issues' in the future which might down-value the house for the new owners. They feel the need to insure against this and, naturally, it is Mum and Dad who have to cover this. Ker-ching. That'll be £170, thank you very kindly.

However, we are hoping this is the back end of the process and that soon we may actually get some contracts to sign. Dad is chasing our own solicitor from this end. Fingers crossed everyone.

Deefs

What Lies Beneath

We come under attack from those cruel and heartless Silverwoods, who suggest that our cleaning and preparations for the professional photographer from the Estate Agent might be only skin deep; superficial and not constituting genuine de-cluttering and improvements on da house. Out of a sense of open-ness and honesty, we therefore publish some pics of where the junk all went for you to judge for yourself, to whit, "under the stairs", "the big bad bookshelf" and "the walk in wardrobe". Wanna buy this house? Immaculate and well cared for?

Meanwhile, Dad has lost his heart to a Galway Hooker and spent tonight climbing all over her, stroking her and getting inside. Is this Ok on a family blog? All will be revealed tomorrow.

Deefs

D Minus 37

For those keeping score, we are now only 37 days from June 30th which is a VERY SIGNIFICANT DAY in Project Erroll terms. A life-changing day, a huge crossroads and a bit of a scary prospect as well. Do you get the impression that maybe the humans are focussing here?

Mum and Dad are both working hard in their separate domains and evenings are long and dry, either warm and balmy or, at present, a bit cold and chilly. Mainly dry, though. We have not had any significant rain for what feels like almost 3 months in the SE, all of March. April and all of May so far. The ground is as dry as dust and nothing is growing. Lawns are straw-coloured and soil is cracked.

For we dogs, of course, life bimbles along as normal. We get plenty of walks in the dry evenings - tonight round the Cemetery and Rec where we meet and have a good scamper about with 2 year old westie Jimmy. Dad plays that old favourite game with me of 'chuck the abandoned pop bottle' - Lucozade tonight and then I amuse all comers by walking home from the Rec with it between my teeth as if using it to cool my fevered throat after the hot playing.

37 Days

Deefs

Hottest Easter

The hottest Easter for ages continues, all be it with a bit of a chilly evening last night, when Mum and Dad had been invited round to Diamond's for a superb roast lamb dinner. We dogs were left behind on the grounds that it was too hot, but I suspect that my 'ambivalent' feelings towards Rags may have been taken into account. Diamond jokes around with Mum and Dad about them 'deserting her' when Project Erroll comes off and cooks superb food to make sure they miss her! Dad's favourite gratin potatoes and Diamond's home made ice cream feature.

On these really hot days, Dad takes us for our main walk really early - we were out by 20 to 7 this morning when the dew is still all over the oil seed rape and the bunnies have not yet woken up to the fact that humans and dogs may be up and about. At one stage a rabbit runs away from me down the lane but then turns left into the waist (on Dad!) high rape. All Dad can see for a while is the tops of flowers twitching as I crash about out of sight in the field. He whistles and claps and shouts. Eventually, I am done, and I emerge looking like a drownded rat but with a superb bright yellow slick up my spine, of rape petals.

Dad's been down at the barge, of course, over the weekend, painting 'below decks' and re-oiling the top mast. The Creek is starting to empty of barges now, as each one emerges from its poly-tunnel cocoon, gets its gear up and slides down to the Swale on a Spring tide. Greta heads for Whitstable, Lady Daphne and Repertor for London. Only the infirm and locally-owned are still around, and of course the 'not-quite-ready' like Cambria herself.

It is a Spring tinged with sadness, as no-one is certain whether the over-wintering in Faversham will continue and the barges return in the autumn. The Landlord of the Standard Quay has not renewed the lease of the operating company, and looks like , in effect, turfing all the shipwrights, boat builders and dry-dock users with their noise, clutter, tools and piles of wood, off in favour of wine bars, restaurants and the like, keeping some barges in place just for show. Where they will go for repairs, servicing, winter refits, sail-dressing etc, nobody knows - maybe Essex? Medway? Iron Wharf? Whitstable?

It seems like the end of an era.

Deefs

ps - Dad is baking bread, so we have to keep putting down this keyboard and doing baker stuff. Mrs Silverwood would be proud of us.