A moving story

Hi everyone, I’m Larry and I have been co-opted by my owners, Anne and Marc, to write this blog for them. A couple of years ago I was leading a peaceful, if somewhat dull, existence in a gallery in Kennebunkport, when I was bought by the d’Abovilles and repatriated to the UK. London -  bright lights, big city – how exciting, I loved it there.  But last year I could tell that big changes were afoot. Lots of conversations began with “Wouldn’t it be nice if……” or “Just imagine………….” They kept mentioning something called sunshine – not something that there was a lot of in 2012 in the UK. Then all of a sudden the house was sold and everything was being put in boxes – many, many boxes. At the end of November we arrived safely at the holiday house in Normandy. I have been here before (oh the stories I could tell!) and settled happily into my favourite spot near the fire. Christmas was approaching and I even got my own little Santa hat to wear. The family arrived and a very festive time was had by all. In fairy tales, this would be the point at which we all lived happily ever after, but I was beginning to realise that this was no fairy tale………….. (not yet anyway).

It turns out that Normandy is just a temporary stopover and that in a few weeks we will be moving *again* to the South West of France . Anne and Marc have bought somewhere called Le Domaine de Chasselas and we will all be living there and running a small business providing holiday accommodation in the form of gites, camping, caravan and B&B. So, not only is everything from the London house packed away in boxes, everything in this house is also having to be packed up/sold/got rid of – it’s like deja-vu all over again. My role will be to write this blog, and I have been reassured that, unlike here, there will be internet access (luxury!) so I won’t need to visit the library every day to get a connection. Apparently,  someone who seems to be known by the code name “Orange” will be sorting this out for when we arrive - I just hope it doesn’t turn into some sort of Reservoir Dogs re-enactment.

It is snowing as I type this and, pretty though it is, I find myself looking forward to the prospect of some sun and a house without boxes.