I’ve been at the farm for one week now. It’s a true delight to be here after such a long period of expectation. It would be perfection if Monica could be here to share the daily discoveries but it’ll be a month before she arrives.

We’ll know on Friday whether the Adelaide house is sold: we’ve accepted an offer but there’s a statutory cooling-off period. Fingers crossed.

Ralph and Karin, who lived here for forty years up to last week, have adopted me and I see them most days. The neighbours in the Warland hamlet have all been charming, especially after I quashed the rumour that we were opening a motor cyclists’ hotel.

All my needs have been met by the shops and markets nearby, though I must live very simply until our container arrives. The Aga is lovely, though I can’t claim to be in charge yet, and the log fire is better than t’telly. 

It’s hard to believe I’m living in Yorkshire again; my cheery “g’day” must confuse the natives.

Communications and transport aren’t sorted yet. When they are I’ll visit folks further afield. Of course, they’re welcome here at any time. It isn’t completely bare: I was left armchairs, beds and a dining set so you could stay over. 

Chris promises to visit next week, which will be a delight. I’m sure I won’t be lonely here.

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