Bean bags and ferry boats

One week in, and starting to feel at home. Have bought a king size bed – living the American dream.

Feel should write something really profound and insightful about the move. But I don’t feel ready to, it’s all still far too new to say anything beyond the simple fact that I know we’re in for a wonderful few years. Feeling v lucky.

Slowly getting to grips with all the admin involved with any house move. Work out how to do the laundry? Tick. Find a source of utterly plain ham sandwiches T may actually eat? Tick. Buy a nifty whistling kettle to make tea? Tick.
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Goodbye Greenwich, hello New York

All day long I’ve had that song from My Fair Lady in my head; ‘I’m getting married in the morning, ding dong the bells are going to chime!” Except I’ve been singing “New York, we’re coming in the morning,” instead.

Tomorrow’s the big day, The Big Move.
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Here we go round the mulberry bush

Some old family children's books from the 1940s and 50s
Some old family children’s books from the 1940s and 50s

My parents are moving house too, and asked if I wanted any of the old family children’s books. They gave me the most amazing pile of old books, mostly belonging to my mother and her three older brothers from the 1940s and 50s. The Secret Garden, with gorgeous swirling drawings, some classic Beatrix Potters, an old book of nursery rhymes.
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“How goes the work?” called the farmer

Struggling to keep to my official To Do list at the moment, which includes all sorts of tedious-yet-vital things. Check the airline’s baggage allowance, get the kids’ passport photos for visas, sort out International Driving Licences, call the house insurers, yaddah yaddah yaddah.

Instead, I am happily ordering classic British children’s books online. Alfie’s Christmas, Ten Little Fingers and Ten Little Toes, We’re Going on a Bear Hunt… pretty much anything involving Julia Donaldson, Helen Oxenbury or Shirley Hughes.
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