The Move

The move was scheduled for the following Monday the 23rd October. They would pack up everything and drive back to their depot in Drogheda, then the next day drive to Wexford. That meant I was homeless for a night. Luckily I was able to stay with my son. I had to organise someone to look after the animals who were staying put until the following weekend (the October bank holiday).

The only thing I could find to have a cup of tea when the removal company left

Of course in the middle of this I managed to get some sort of bad tummy bug. My son’s girlfriend is a NICU nurse in one of the main children’s hospitals in Dublin and she reckons she is immune to the vomiting bugs but is a carrier. She could well be right but I think it was a combination of grief, exhaustion and stress.

The next day I left early to get on the road to arrive at the house before the removal vans. It was a very difficult drive. I think I cried the whole way. Everywhere I passed once I got into Co. Wexford reminded me of dad. Passing where we had spent all our summers – Kilgorman. Passing through Camolin where we had picked strawberries and then piled into the pub for toasted sandwiches afterwards, starving and sunburnt. Even now writing this makes me tear up.

I arrived at the house to find the electrician finishing connecting the power out to the shed I was putting my fridge and freezers in. I had had to beg the removal company to move them full and connect them overnight to power while they were in the vans. He made the fatal mistake of asking how dad was. He knew he had been bad. I started to tell him then began bawling. The poor chap didn’t know where to look.

Just at that moment the first truck arrived and it got me and him off the hook. Initially I kept up unloading boxes and thought to myself this is a piece of cake. But that was just the first van. They reversed in the second and when I saw the number of boxes I nearly cried. How in the name of God could I have that amount of stuff.

They unloaded the last van and scarpered. I recommended the place up the road for them to get food. I couldn’t even make them a cup of coffee. Someone had given me the advice to pack a kettle, cups, tea bags, coffee and MOST importantly the corkscrew separately. Had I taken that advice? Had I heck………..


I managed to get my bed made up and the sitting room half-way “sittable” in. I went up the road to The Hollow a mile away and got fish and chips and found a bottle of wine in the car. There was a gammy corkscrew left in the kitchen drawers here and I broke it trying to open the bottle. Half the cork was still in it but I didn’t care.  I lit the stove and collapsed.

The Second Viewing

I had decided I don’t give a fig what she thinks. but I did really. However, she was off to her place in France. I organised a second viewing with the brother. We drove all around the world. At this point I should tell you that estate agents are spectacularly crap at giving directions and if you use your phone sat nav you will find entrances to farmyards the farmer doesn’t know about.

We eventually got to Wellingtonbridge and apparently the SuperValu is a good one…….. is there such a thing I wondered having lived in SuperValu world where good meant “cuisine de France”. The brother was all excited because there was some wine offer on and he wanted some. So not to be outdone I bought some too. We had wellies in the boot and wine. We could conquer the world. At the till I asked ” where is good for lunch?” She sent us to The Hollow. Bloody hell, I had died and gone to heaven.


We had a really good lunch then went to view the house. We opened the boot, dragged the wellies out and had a chat about wine, as you do with your local friendly estate agent.

My brother loved the house.

We stood in a corner and I told him what my limit was. I made an offer thinking he’d laugh. He didn’t.

We drove back to my brother’s place in Bray.