We are nearing the end of our two week period of self imposed homelessness. By Friday evening we should have taken possession of Jest Acres and at least begun to move in. The movers have promised we will at least have our own beds back by Friday night even if tons of other stuff has to wait till Saturday.
If I’m being honest we have only really been playing at it. Yes we have spent several nights with all four of us in one room, after eating fast food from one of a variety of outlets. But the kids have had offers of sleep-overs at friends for the end of this week, we escaped to relatives for the weekend, and we knew full well we would have a lovely new home to go to this Friday. Still the experience has been significantly stressful, with predictable squabbles over the length of time “certain people” are spending in the bathroom, mum and dad chatting too loudly when “we are trying to get to sleep” (yeah right), the lack of milk / fridge / decaf tea…… space.
To their credit, despite an increase in whinginess the kids are not at one another’s throats and are about to be spared their enforced cohabitation by the aforementioned sleep-overs. Mum and Dad ( yes that’s us—Dr and Lady J) have held it together with just a few terse words on a couple of occasions. We have been driven mad by the lack of a postal address or landline / answerphone for contact (though mobiles have just about managed to field most of our necessary communications). We have been cheered by the kindness and concern shown by our friends and family, especially the couple who received our change of address card, noticed the hiatus between the move out and move in dates and promptly rang to offer us a meal which we thoroughly enjoyed last night. To do so they even managed to negotiate the fact that all they had was a defunct mobile number for us, by ringing the surgery and leaving me a message!
All in all we have been very lucky. Still if we never see the inside of another “family” motel room it won’t be too soon. And I have a new respect for those of my small flock who have to do this for months at a time. I can well understand how it “does their head in”. It might even make me stop and buy the occasional “Big Issue” from now on, and this years charity xmas cards might just change their focus slightly too.
So if any of you know anyone in a similar position, give them a call and offer a chat, a cup of tea, a meal if you can. You might just save their sanity.
Though admittedly some of us might be beyond help in that regard ;-).