Escape from the Country

We moved house this week. We haven't moved very far, just over 4 miles away, but the combination of having more children than bedrooms and needing to get back closer to the school has meant that we are now urban dwellers again. I was a little reticent at first, but I think I am starting to really like the new house.

Well, I say it is new. It is new to us but, in fact, it is an old Victorian house in Larbert. It's not what I had in mind. What I had originally anticipated was a new house, or at least nearly new. Essentially, I had in mind something that may have been built properly by Polish people. Nevertheless, the house we have moved into is spacious and feels solidly put together - I'm just not expecting the cheapest of fuel bills. The fuel is also a big change. For the first time in years we are cooking with gas: At least we should be as soon as someone can work out how the damn stuff works.

The other big difference is the noise. It's not that living in an urban area is noisier, but the noises are different. Instead of tractors, horses, donkeys and my neighbour's falcon, we have urban noises: which essentially means people noises. It's not loud but it certainly is weird. Additionally, I'm quite surprised at how different the garden wildlife is. I can't remember the last time I saw magpies, pigeons and neighbourhood cats wandering through the garden.

The main focus for this week has been moving all our stuff over. I never thought we had that much stuff. Now, I realise, we have tonnes of it; and most of it is complete and utter rubbish. It is currently standing around the house in cardboard boxes. Every time I look into a box it is full of tat. The tat is in various stages of chuck-out-ability but if I attempt to find anything of any value whatsoever it is on a secret vacation with Lord Lucan.

Inevitably, something will not make the move intact. I had my bets on my eldest son's bed. This was one of those high rise kid's beds affairs which was bought from IKEA and assembled in his bedroom. There was no way it was going to exit in one piece and it was disassembled by Allen key and reassembled like a jigsaw with no picture. Miraculously, it went back together in a better state than it left. As it turned out, it was my bed that would not leave in one piece. I had forgotten that the bedroom was actually built around it. That's one for my Christmas present list. So now I am sleeping on a mattress in a downstairs room of an old Victorian house, surrounded by boxes of miscellaneous junk. For some reason I feel like I am in some kind of student dwelling.

The other casualty was the TV. The TV has been on it's way out for years. In truth, it has never worked properly and the features have gradually dropped out. First, it wouldn't work well in digital mode. Then the sound went wonky. Then the digital mode stopped working as Freeview changed their standard yet again to prove what a nonsense my "future proofed" TV was. Then it started to take 5 minutes to start up. Obviously, at this point I should have given up. However the picture was still good. Having moved, I discovered that all the AV leads to replace the failed functions of receiver/amplifier/speakers were all the wrong length. After a frantic search on Amazon, I managed to get hold of all the correct cables. Unfortunately, at this point, the screen doesn't display 16:9 widescreen quite right anymore. Clearly, I need a new telly but I'm skint.

I've managed to get the TV working to the extent that it can be watched. This is a relief as Raymond had been worried that we may not be able to watch Doctor Who - or at least only be able to watch it at my mother-in-laws house whilst she grumbles on about "silly television things" in German. At least we can watch it at home, although possibly with a little sadness following Elizabeth Sladen's sudden death. Anyway, more of that next week.