My first week of life here at the farm has been a dream, for two reasons. First, I’ve had a wonderful time; second, it’s very hard to get a message out!
A friend in London has kindly offered to help collect Bandit from Heathrow, so no worries about that. I’ll still try to stay with Neil a while when I go down in a couple of weeks from now.
It’s just over a week since Ralph and Karin handed on responsibility for Warland Farm to us. I see them most days because they seem to have adopted me, plus Ralph keeps returning bits of machinery that won’t fit into his new garage for storage here.
The neighbours have all been welcoming and I have already found buddies among them for cycling, brewing and other pastimes. All of my requisites have been met by the local shops without recourse to a supermarket; the Aga and I are becoming friends; and the log fire is better than a telly. The Pownalls left me two beds, two armchairs and a dining suite so the place isn’t bare and life is, mostly, sweet.
My only frustrations are with the bigger world that provides miserable mobile coverage, can’t get my phone and broadband going and won’t deliver the insurance certificate that would get the car on the road. I’m sitting in the bow window to try to squeeze messages out so that folk know everything is fine with me.