With a buyer lined up for our parents’ house, the clearance process began in earnest. Treasured furniture, photos and mementos went to France on a Xmas whistle-stop van visit and it was followed in March 2022 by a sister-hit for the last clear-out and clean. We spent the first half of the holiday camping out there with ever-reducing amenities: good furniture went to the auction house, more furniture and household items went to a charity shop and remaining items, including lots of [potentially] very useful tools and bits of wood went to the hovel.
We tucked things like the washing machine, cooker, swing seat and spare crockery into spaces where they were relatively out of the way, sorted the remaining workshop tools into the always-useful post office boxes (at least 25 years old and still going strong), swapped scavenged furniture for better furniture and generally tidied things away.
In the liveable side of the house we arranged the new furniture including a fridge (but no power), a big larder cupboard, and some chairs. We organised a post box and a new address – a convoluted process marred by mis-translation which eventually seemed quite simple – buy a box, get a number from the local post office and put it up alongside the others. The proof of success will be the arrival of post! We spent the last few days of the holiday living there and it felt good.
From here-on, a new stage begins. The hovel has to be self sufficient and properly home, without our father’s house with its hot showers, running water, and company to fall back on. I still have a car but no garage and I need someone to take it for its IMT/MOT. I have a post box and address but have to rely on someone else to check it and deal with what arrives. I have a job in Wales with limited holidays and Brexit to navigate. And still no planning permission. Yes, now it’s real!
Hovel in the sun 