Moving house the Gorgeous George’s Mama way

When nothing goes to plan, I try my best to laugh about it. Like I’m staring in my own comedy show. But this time I truly pissed off the karma fairy. This is my tale of moving house, the Gorgeous George’s Mama way.

So I may not have blogged for a few months, but if you follow me on social media, Instagram in particular, you will know that we have recently moved house.

It was a plain sailing kind of experience. If you can imagine plain sailing whilst a big ole’ pirate ship is shooting cannonballs at you which you are trying to dodge. After you dodge the last cannonball, you envisage a life with your toes dipping in the warm sea surrounding your ship. Needless to say, no one told you that sea would be full of sharks trying to bite your legs off.

Let us add a little clarity to this cryptic analogy. So the house sold after 5 weeks on the market. Mid October and I was feeling smug. I literally thought I was the dogs bollocks at selling houses.

Don’t get me wrong. I spent months grafting, with a little help from hubs, mum and step dad. The house was decluttered, spruced up, along with the garden, and when the estate agent pictured went online, friends actually asked how the hell I had done it and where was all our stuff. “Just don’t look in the garage” was my reply!

So having sold our house in mid October, you may be surprised (or not, if you have any experience of solicitors), to know that we didn’t exchange and complete until mid February! It was literally the smallest and simplest of chains. But alas my name is Cassandra so nothing is ever simple. In case you aren’t aware, Cassandra was a greek goddess who had the gift of knowledge but was cursed that no bugger would ever believe her.

This is the literal story of my life. Not only that, if I have ever phoned up to make a table booking in a restaurant, I swear to you, it always has a problem or wasn’t recorded. The curse obviously extends that people listen to what I say and then completely disregard it. Am I really cutting the solicitors slack because of a goddess cursed name? Who the feck knows. Welcome to the workings of my mind.

Without going into the boring details, it was a shit storm that should’ve been over way before Christmas 2018, but solicitors (being the poorly paid individuals they are, sob sob) dragged their heels and nearly drove me to the point of being ill. I’m serious. My period didn’t arrive through stress. Hubs, George and I completely missed Christmas after all contracting flu and it took us weeks to get our strength back. I really don’t think the added stress helped.

One day in February, after multiple excuses from everyone, I flipped and told the estate agent (who regularly liaised with the solicitor) that it was making me ill and I had passed the point of impatience now. What do you know, we exchanged that day!

That day ironically, I was at a hospital appointment 90 minutes from home. I had arranged for my mum to collect George from preschool, got the train to London, my bag strap snapped on the way. I arrived to be told the clinic had been cancelled two months prior but they forgot to send me a letter. This was the same morning I had told the estate agent I was a woman on the edge.

Thankfully the cancelled clinic worked in my favour as I was seen by a different clinician who is finally getting somewhere in diagnosing a condition I’ve struggled with for the past 6 years.

In the meantime, my phone is going crazy. We had found a rental of dreams and was totally stressing we would lose it due to the solicitors doing the procrastination dance. Hubs took over whilst I was in London. Spectacularly we had secured the rental and exchanged on our sale before I arrived home.

All was starting to go well. The rental of “dreams” was ours. I decided the song by Pink “A Million Dreams” was the soundtrack to our move as it kept coming on at appropriate times.

So we moved in. The removal guys came highly recommended by a friend who had recently moved but also by the majority of our town (after a quick facebook search). To cut a long story short, I shall use this quote;

“Not everyone that smiles at you is your friend”

It was the straw that broke the camel’s back to be honest and to have the manager of the removal company making false accusations about us, whilst I sat staring at a damaged house I cracked.

I continually had people drum into me that moving was the most stressful thing you can ever do and that point it all flooded over me. Overcome, I took myself off and cried for an hour. Whilst I always try my best to laugh at a situation as I know there is ALWAYS someone going through worse. But at that point I had nothing left to give.

Onwards and upwards. My hubs came to the rescue and took over dealing with the situation. Meanwhile, I got in with making a knob of myself with the new neighbours.

Whilst moving some bits over to the new house, the man next door poked his head out of the upstairs window. He introduced himself as Denzel. I’m a bit like Chandler out of Friends, in that I try to be funny to avoid awkward conversation. I promptly declared that I was called Cassandra. Quipping that with him being Denzel, we were halfway towards starting our own episode of Only Fools and Horses on the street. Lets just say he didn’t laugh.

So in a very brief and laughable nutshell, that is our moving story. You can read more here about why we decided to leave the property ladder.


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