We’ve been told we’re brave or adventurous. We know that’s code for crazy.
Our mad meandering of the last ten years looked set to continue for the foreseeable future. Ours is not the tragic homelessness of poverty or extreme weather, but the ridiculous homelessness of an Englishman who wanted to live in America with freedom and an Anglicized American who wants to live in England with family.
In these last ten years, we’d twice given up the comfort of living like normal people – once in Europe and once in the U.S. We sold our house in England, ostensibly to take an extended trip, bought a trailer and “did” Europe, sold the trailer and moved to an apartment in Washington State.
We had a year and a half hiatus with no obligation to hitch up and move on but with seemingly fewer sunny days than could be counted on the fingers and toes of just one soggy person we packed up and hitched up again. The grand plan as we wearied once again of cohabiting 24/7 in an 8 by 30 foot box was to look for the perfect place to live before himself took to the gypsy life for good. We’d (meaning I’d) by no means completely agreed on living permanently in the United States, but by visiting all 48 continental states we thought we were sure to come across an ideal home in a perfect community that was somewhere not too hot, too cold, too wet or too dry, with no spiders, no mosquitoes or other hideous insects, no snakes, no bears, no tornadoes, no hurricanes, no floods, no earthquakes, no tsunamis, no volcanoes, no deep snow, no humidity, no wild fires and had a low cost of living.
Not so long ago an East coast girl from Baltimore and an east coast Brit from Suffolk lived in a chocolate-box-pretty country cottage on half an acre of landscaped gardens in the East Anglia region of England. The cottage was young for an English dwelling, 150 years old but with soft pink rendered walls and a steeply pitched tiled roof it was reminiscent of a cottage many centuries old. With snow icing the eaves it could have graced a Christmas card.
Somehow I let myself be lured into our present nomadic existence. Our house was sold and life as we knew it was packed into storage. I would have scanned and posted pictures of my beautiful cottage garden but they’re all in that storage unit. Still.
Like I said, what planet was I on when I agreed to this?
That was then, 9 years ago. Indecisiveness and too much jet-lag has brought us back to England. We still haven’t bought a house although himself has brought his big Chevy truck to Europe and bought a caravan/travel trailer to tow behind it.
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