Recent weeks have seen all those bits that you see going horribly wrong on Grand Designs happening to us, it doesn’t just make good telly, it happens. In a nutshell; finances have become difficult and the lender we have approached is making us jump through so many hoops we could very well have a new career in circus skills at the end of this project. This, in turn, has meant that the build has had to come to a halt. The knock on of which will be delays, delays, delays and, you guessed it, more delays. Which for me spells longer living in my not-so-dream home caravan…oh joy.
We’ve discovered the thrill of planning regulations and all kinds of nonsensical, bureaucratic red-tape. Yet more hoops to jump thorough, see what I mean about those circus skills. For example, who’d have thought that the evidence of one bat feeding in your roof would mean the need to spend several hundred pounds on a bat survey and several more on a bat licence. Batman, as I’m now calling him, arrives on Monday to help me sort this out.
And then there’s the wind, and I don’t mean that we’ve been eating too many baked beans. This week has seen winds of up to 70 miles per hour hit Norfolk. If I was Michael Fish, I’d say that they’ve mainly been circling our caravans, at least, thats how it feels. At times, I’ve been utterly terrified as my darlin’ husband has lay snoring next to me, telling me in the morning how cosy it felt, whilst the bags under my eyes are slowly growing into cases. Sleep; who needs it, very underrated.
As I write today, the wind is still howling and the sleet is falling heavily. This is the first day that we’ve felt the potential of how cold it might get and it’s only November, eek!
I haven’t mentioned the mud yet. Well, it’s clay but there’s a lot of it.
The current scenario we find ourselves in is a good learning curve for me. I have to master the art of patience whilst we wait for all the red-tape surrounding us to be cut. I’m not good at waiting. In fact, I’m dreadful at it. I want it now. Maybe this will be another skill I master. Is there a market for patient hula hoop girls?
But it’s not all bleak. It doesn’t take much to shake me out of the ‘what the hell are we doing’ feelings. In fact, a walk round our beautiful land and breathing in what nature is providing us soon clears my head and helps me see the bigger picture. The meadows are full of bright red berries, sloes and the last of our apples, some of which I intend to pick later today before embarking on a mass chutney making session. This week I’ve seen a beautiful falcon flying through the meadow and a deer with her fawn. David Attenborough has nothing on me.
Some of that mud, well, OK clay.