Posted by admin
on Jan 28, 2013 in Blog
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“There are a few houses in between the Scottish Highlands and Devon you know!” was the comment a friend aimed at us when we first announced we had moved to our new home at the other end of the British Isles.
We decided it was time to move from our secluded house in the scenic Cairngorms to the glorious rolling valleys of scenic Devon. A journey that encompassed 500 miles or so.
The task at first was a daunting one. Initially finding a house to move into was more difficult than we expected. We had the 500 or so miles to travel down to our new chosen location and then organise the viewings. We were not prepared for a massively thriving rental market where competition for houses had become so fierce that landlords were fighting candidates off with a stick. When relocating such a considerable distance you need to be prepared to drive – a lot! To cut a long story short, eventually we found our dream home and couldn’t wait to move.
All was about to get even more challenging as our move was set on a rollercoaster path right from the off!
After a spate of heavy rain and the flooding of our bedroom, our highland dwelling had lost any appeal that it first had. We enjoyed the views, the wildlife, the space, the cold winters for four years but the damp problem was a big issue. So with two months notice to evacuate the property we decided to move to Devon.
Family and friends can prove invaluable at a time like this, so when we had an offer to help with the move we accepted gratefully (many hands make light work) and got to work packing and getting on with the many charity shop and recycling centre runs. But then disaster struck when weeks before we were set to physically move, serious illness hit the family and the help we were relying on was withdrawn.
After all the panic and turmoil, a lovely local man with a van stepped in. The only problem was the van wasn’t big enough for all of our furniture and belongings. We would need to do a return trip to the Highlands and collect the rest of it (thank goodness for a very hospitable landlord who let us keep our things in the shed until we returned).
The night of the actual move was fraught with frustration though. Everything was boxed up – just the kettle and the teabags remained – and we were ready. We had some local lads come along to help with the lifting and carrying but come the time the man with van was due, then an hour later and an hour after that, our helpers had gone. Our van and man eventually arrived some five hours after he was expected. It was dark and raining and his exterior lights were broken. Like something out of a surrealist film, or indoor lights were rigged up out in the rain so that things could be loaded into the van.
Two hours later. The van and the man and half our stuff had set off for Devon. Eleven O’clock at night. After a good sweep round and sorting the remainder of our things it was gone two o’clock in the morning when after this long and tiring day and even more tiring evening, we set off on the very long drive down to Devon.
When we arrived at our new house we found that the van and the man were still unloading along with the assistance of – our new landlord!
The moral of this story is don’t kid yourself you are saving money by not getting in the professionals to help you move! You don’t. You spend more and waste more time than you needed to. Secondly, landlords get a bad press and there are really lovely ones out there… you’ve just got to know where to look (start in the Highlands and finish in Devon!)