We've finally done it. We've completed the last stage of a three part plan we concocted nearly three years ago.
Part one: sell our lovely house in Monmouth.
Part two: transport ourselves and seven animals across Europe.
Part three: buy a lovely house in Portugal.
I'd imagined that Part Two would be the trickiest but it turned out to be a relative doddle in comparison to the trials (literally) of Part One and the tribulations of Part Three.
We arrived in Portugal in 29th April and finally bought a house on 28th July, a three month period consisting of prolonged periods of waiting interspersed with episodes of hysteria.
We changed our minds about the house we had arrived in Portugal intending to buy, but quickly found another - one we'd first viewed a year ago - and made an offer that was accepted. Hooray! We'd soon be out of our very basic and frankly a bit stinky rental. We made plans and mentally moved in, decorated, arranged the furniture. We'd been assured a quick sale, but there was a hitch with one of the necessary documents. We were promised it would be resolved 'next week'. The following week we were promised it would be resolved 'next week'. The following week we were promised 'next week'.. etc. etc. etc.
Suspended in an undulating limbo we tried to make the best of things.
At the start of the second month we needed to pay another month's rent, so Rich went off with €300 to find Pierre.
Me: Did you find Pierre?
Rich: No. But I saw his mother doing some gardening in a house up the road but she couldn't understand me so I slipped the cash into the pocket of her housecoat.
Me: What?! Are you sure it was Pierre's mother?
Rich: It was the woman who was cleaning our house when we arrived...
Me: The woman we ASSUMED was Pierre's mother...
It was short-lived disaster, and another month went by, consisting of our hopes being raised then dashed, then raised then dashed, with boring bits in between during which I'd pick arguments with unknown idiots on the interwebs for something to do.
A meeting was arranged with the Estate Agent and the owner of the house we were trying to buy, during which she wept and pleaded with us to wait for the elusive document she required, and left us feeling uncomfortable and confused.
Then our lawyer got stabbed.
He wasn't killed, fortunately, despite being hospitalised having been stabbed several times in the abdomen, arms and legs by a irritated opponent in a 'friendly' football match.
Then the owner of the house threatened to commit suicide if the deal didn't go through.
So we decided NOT to buy her house on the basis that giving in to emotional blackmail is always the wrong thing to do, and started looking at other properties.
We saw this brilliant house on top of a hill with spectacular views over Obidos. It was more expensive so we transferred another wadge of money from our English bank account into our Portuguese bank account, and made an offer, which was accepted.
We now had three quarters of all our eggs in one basket - the Portuguese bank.
Then on a Friday morning two days later, I happened on a heart-stopping news feature which suggested that the Portuguese bank THAT HELD THREE QUARTERS OF ALL OUR EGGS was in financial crisis and about to crash.
Yes, I know. Scary stuff. We rushed to the bank and requested a bank draft for a very large sum 'because we needed to buy a house immediately, yes, that very afternoon'. (We're British. We didn't want to appear rude to the poor bank. Or for them to think we were panicking, and selfishly adding to their troubles.)
Then we gave the bank draft to our stabbed but now almost recovered lawyer for safe(r)-keeping in his bank, and spent the weekend hoping he hadn't done a mid-night flit to the Bahamas.
Then all the Youngs arrived! Hooray! You can't have the ups without the downs, as they say. Holly, Grace, Paul, Angus and Nick had been at a festival in the middle of the Spanish desert and they texted from the Spanish/Portuguese border to say they'd be with us that evening. But Holly and Grace are their mother's daughters and tricks and surprises are in their blood and so as Rich and I drove back from the supermarket at lunchtime there they were, in two multi-coloured vans driving towards us, shouting and waving and tooting and we had a very happy reunion outside the huge medieval church in Óbidos.
The purchase of the new house went without a hitch and we completed two days ago, two weeks after our offer was accepted. We've moved in but have no furniture - hopefully it will arrive in two weeks - but it's so lovely here that it doesn't matter. Holly and Angus are still here and Grace and Paul fly back on Friday.
So we got to where we wanted to be, at last. There's loads to be done - building work, decorating, veg garden - but that's how I like it. I'm not very good at being bored. Makes me narky.
We've had our ups and downs but it's been a truly amaaaaazing journey, as they say on The X-factor.
*bursts into tears* *clutches photo of long-deceased grandmother* *sells story to Daily Express*
