Guess Who's Coming for Dinner (Over and Over Again...)?
Several months ago my parents started talking about retiring an hour south from where they live. And I said, "Why don't you move to Tasmania? Because then I can look after you when you are old, and, well, grandchildren." So they thought about it for a while and gamely agreed to come and look at houses in Tasmania, and just to make sure, they came here in the dead of winter, to see whether the weather was really as bad as rumour has it (they have most avoided visiting in the depths of July). It is. But they found a dear little village and a new church and some lovely new friends. They are such troopers, they put their house up for sale and came to look for a house here, and accidentally sold their house in less than a week. Then they had to rush back home and pack up their house and say good-bye to their old life in the space of three weeks.
Tomorrow morning they will return to Tasmania 'for keeps'. They are currently homeless, but luckily I run a boarding house for homeless parents. They are such brave adventurers, starting a whole new life here, and I feel very happy that I will have some extended family close by.
Tired, but determinedly cheerful mother of four. One grown up son (The Boy), one grown up daughter (The Girl), two girls at home, Rosy (17) and Posy (12). Trying to buy a little less, make a little more, live a little lighter, not mess up the children too much..