Ascending the Everest of Moving House

It's all about the heat wave now.

Cherries and watermelon - all I can face eating for lunch.

A Devon Long Horn cow encountered on a walk on Sunday with a group of dear friends in the hills of Somerset. I wear long sleeves against the horseflies, a hat and suncream.Some of us give up half way through the trek and take a short cut back to the carpark. I find the intensity of the heat oppressive and enervating.The shade is a relief.

 I feel as if I'm on holiday in northern Greece or Sardinia or Africa. Familiar green England scorching to brown in front of my eyes.

 Afterwards we are rewarded with a scrumptious shared BBQ in the beautiful  - still green -  country garden of our hosts for the afternoon.

I try and capture the atmosphere in the photos but they are all over-exposed in the harshness of the light.

  

 This evening my sister sends me this photo of a long eared bat having a snooze on their sofa. I love the utter oddity of it ...soft and furry and also stretched skin and fine bone...a flying mouse I suppose. Not sure I'd want to encounter one here on my own at night.  But I'd have to deal with it.  It's what I'm learning to do all the time now.

I miss Robin more and more each day as I keep ascending the Everest of moving house....his absence  a constant ache in my side.

This morning I have a meeting with my solicitor who is brisk and kind and looks about 12 years old.  She answers all my questions  but I'm not totally reassured about my next steps and I leave her office confused and uncertain.

While I'm  in town I buy lipstick, as mine has melted in the heat. And sunflower hearts for my hungry garden birds. It's 30 degrees in the car.

My gut is telling me I'm tense and anxious and my adrenals are racing but I have no oomph. I make phone calls to the roofer and the plumber and the electrician. I write emails all afternoon with half an eye on the drama of Wimbledon  playing out on the TV. I start de-clutteirng the neat rows and rows of Robin's CDs.

It's not till much much later, when it cools down a bit and a little breeze blows in through the open sitting room window, making the tall white lilies swirl round in their vase, that I start to feel clearer and even have some energy to make supper and clear the table of the mess of papers. 

And start to believe that I can make good decisions, that I can make things happen, that I know how to ask for help without thinking I'm a nuisance or being over anxious.

That I'm totally adequate in all situations. 

And doing it without Robin hurts all the time. The Everest and the iceberg lodged inside me.