A dear, close neighbour will be moving away from here in a month or so. She is getting on in years, and has struggled a bit since her husband died a couple of years ago. She had to get over a disgraceful burglary last year, and now has a distinct fear for her future in her delightful cottage, as her diagnosis of dementia (over the bloody phone, for God's sake), has made her need more help than she would ordinarily wish for.
Her three sons all live in other parts of the country, all in the South, so she is looking at a retirement village complex where she will have security, friendship from close neighbours, a church and above all, someone to keep a closer eye on her. She'll be near one of the sons, who lives roughly in the middle of the three, so she'll see her grandchildren more often as well.
Just yesterday, Senora O'Blene and Scrobs were partaking of a post-prandial tincture, and discussing what they'd do under the circumstances. The upshot is that we are firmly in the 'remain' camp here, as we have lived here for thirty-two years, and in the village for another twelve before that, so at last, we think we're accepted!
When we were first married, we lived in a flat in Hastings, as we both worked of course. When the children came along, we moved to a farm cottage way out in the countryside, and then finished up here, so that wasn't very adventurous, but it suited us well. My company actually wanted me to move nearer to London, but that was never on the cards, and they backed down immediately after a serious telephone call!
Senora O'Blene had spent much of her childhood in various forces accommodation, and is always of the opinion that she will damn well stay in one place from now on, and I feel the same! There was an uncomfortable time several years ago when Brown and Blair were bankrupting the country and also my company, which meant we might have to move, but we got over that, and the latest idea is that we're thinking we'll use what space we have at 'The Turrets', which is a decent space for a state of the art shower, and possibly a stair lift! (We don't need either - yet...)!
We know so many people who have decided to up-sticks every few years, gone to far-off places, sometimes hated it and returned, or became distant Christmas card addresses. A good chum is caught up in an immoveable property chain where he is desperate to move back to his roots area, and cannot, while another mate just decided to move the family two-hundred miles away, almost on a whim! My dear sister moved away some years ago, but at least we can chat over the phone occasionally!
So it's another thirty odd years of these tulips and bluebells, which have come out every year we have been here, they're persistent little chaps, and possibly about my age...