I have to confess I had butterflies in my tummy when I finally picked up the ‘phone to call the estate agent. After a sobering reality check, we have made the momentous decision to sell the farmhouse. Thus the fates of David, my tenant and myself rested on that conversation with the agent to say we had decided to go ahead with our decision to put the house on the market and would like him to represent us, please? That was one of those life-changing moments.
So if you have noticed that my blog posts have been a bit sporadic these past few weeks, it is because we have been busy nursing this lovely old farmhouse back to rude health in preparation for its launch onto the open market via local estate agents, Marshalls (if you want to see house details with pretty pictures). You might even have spied it in the CornishPerson this week in all it’s full-page-spread glory. It is now official.
- touching up flaking paintwork with a third generation batch of our special Trezelah Cream (mindful of her former life as a dairy farm);
- scrubbing green moss off north-facing walls;
- pressure-washing winter, sepia-stained patio slabs until the machine finally packed up presumably out of protest;
- washing sofa and cushion covers erasing all evidence of lazy lap-suppers and mucky paw prints;
- sponging down windows smeared with salty storm deposits and wet canine noses;
- strimming the lawn to within an inch of its life and planting up tubs to welcome visitors with sunny-faced pansies – now battered by recent gales and lashing rain.
- Arranging Energy Performance Certificates, now obligatory, I believe. Yet another ploy by the government to pave the way for a new tax levy.
- Approving the draft of agents house details and drawing a rough floor plan.
- Sorting through 8 years of accumulated clutter,
- selling surplus kettles and dog crates on Network Cornwall.
- Generally making the old house feel a little bit more loved, lifting her energies with freshly picked flowers and the smell of newly laundered linen.
The good news is the garden is beginning to blossom. The new shoots and leaves sprouting from every twig and branch have a slightly battered appearance, ravaged by recent weather but still full of promise and all the hopes that go with Spring and the birth of new beginnings. The more the house and garden is brought back to sparkling life (reminding us of our B&B days) the harder it is to even contemplate our departure. My decision to write a post about it was based on a desire to broadcast the news into the ether. I feel sure that there is already someone ‘out there’ for whom this house has already been allocated and they probably aren’t even aware of it yet! Someone who will be drawn into the magic of her unique atmosphere, just as we had been.
Still, we are not there yet and the ball has only just begun to roll. In these quiet, reflective moments just before things start to kick off, I have nothing but feelings of gratitude: this house has provided a safe haven for us during our time under the protection of her roof, not only through our own blossoming spirituality but also for the many hundreds (possibly thousands) of people who have passed over her threshold in the short eight years we have lived here, six of which as ‘open house’. She has fully embraced us all in the healing energies we have witnessed within the safety of her solid, four-foot thick granite walls. My hope is that she continues to safeguard our successors and provide as much of a sanctuary for them as she has done for us. When that will all come to pass is anybody’s guess!
Now, if you will excuse me, I just need to take the bread out of the oven and put the coffee on!