Not sure I would recommend this to anyone - it’s traumatic,
it started in spring, trying to sell our beautiful house in a Brexit-deflated market and eventually accepting £60k below asking price. Ouch. Roll forward to the end of the summer and the stress of potentially losing or gaining 10’s of thousands from one day to the next resulted in us forward contracting and fixing a rate of 1.91$ in mid October when we receive the house funds. An ok rate but maybe we should have braved it out.

But it’s the emotional stuff that has knocked me for six. Last weekend we had a beautiful, but heart wrenching leaving do in the pub where we had our post wedding party, followed by two days with my parents and a reunion with my brother who has been estranged for 6 years. Dad has Parkinson’s and can’t travel and can barely speak 😢.

Yesterday the removals started. A very rude awakening at 6.45 am (PSS great at the logistics so far, but rubbish communication from our move manager) when we were all in pjs, expecting another hour. I had to make packed lunches while they emptied my kitchen around me - unprepared as I thought they would do top down but they do bottom up. I returned 2 hours after they started, from a cheeky root canal appointment (it’s been a week and a half) to find my kitchen bin and spare vacuum (un-cleaned and undeclared) for the post move clean, have been packed. Somehow need to dig out today. They left at 2pm and have packed 75% of our three story, 5 bed house, incredible to watch.
They are back at 7.15 today, until lunchtime, then the container arrives at 8am tomorrow. Travelodge for us tonight and tomorrow. The kids are still at school (their choice) so very weird working out packed lunches and uniforms.
We had their leaving do last night - same pub, finished two hours earlier than ours, only 3 piñata related injuries and tears galore.
Tonight is a quiet night, container tomorrow and a leaving dinner with our main crew, lunch with the same crew on Saturday (we are milking it and are totally wrecked), Heathrow hotel Saturday night, and fly at 9am on Sunday. Hopefully too knackered to meltdown at the airport. We arrive in AKL on the 30th and my husband starts work on the 2nd.
Very scared about what happens next.

Sorry for the wordiness - can’t sleep and it feels cathartic. I should have started a blog.

He’s working for his parent’s business so, while he will definitely have to hit the ground running, there is a little bit of flex.

Thanks 😃