Moved....

Well, it all went very smoothly. Apart, that is, from being locked out on the day we took possession. Somehow, when the estate agent gave me two remote control fobs for the garage and no keys, I felt that it wasn't going to be plain sailing and, sure enough the connecting door to the house was locked.

Luckily, we didn't have three perspiring removal men and all our possessions waiting in the road while the locksmith was summoned (by the vendor who also paid the call-out bill) as we'd always planned to move in the following day. And boy, did they sweat. Hard work in this climate. The vendor also left us a goldfish, which is still alive.

Anyway, everything inside the house was fine, including the keys. There's been more perspiring, as various boxes are lugged around and lugged back again when they prove to be the wrong box, or the right box in the wrong place, obviously. It's not me who decides these things for the most part.

One of the first jobs was to cut the vast lawns, front and rear. We are now the possessers of a motor mower (four-stroke, 18" cut, for those obsessed with such things) and a whipper-snipper (a strimmer in this neck of the woods).

Since I started writing this, two people have wandered past with surf boards and one with a spear gun. I shall head to the beach myself shortly.