On moving to Ireland…

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I know it has definitely been too long when I go from a Moonrise Kingdom post to a “hello we are in Ireland” post. But here we are here, in Balbriggan, County Dublin, Ireland.

So three weeks ago (this preceded about a month of sorting out all the shit we had accumulated in 2 years, and my god had we accumulated some shit. A lot of which I have since discovered we brought with us. Sigh) we packed up the cottage and the baby pug and we drove to Dublin.

Initially I was dead set on living within walking distance of the CBD. Whilst we lived in zone 2 in London (ok the very edge, but still zone 2 none the less), it still took me between 45 minutes and an hour to get to work. The thought of a quick commute, without having to take the tube, just seemed heavenly.  But then I started looking at the cost, and then I started thinking about the possibility of having a bigger garden (so I wouldn’t have to walk the pug quite so often…) and having a vegetable garden and chickens and a beehive…. And it was at this point that the importance of proximity to whatever it is that we may be doing in Dublin during the week, just sort of receded into the background. And so here we are, in a cottage, with a decent size garden and 10 minutes walk from the beach (and yes, a 30-40 minute train ride from Dublin). And it really is lovely.

However, moving always has its trials… I toyed with the idea of whether I should include a good moan in this post. I didn’t want to tar the awesomeness of what we have been very fortunate to do, by moaning like a little brat because everything hasn’t worked out like I wanted it to. Equally though, there is nothing more annoying than those fake blog post where everything is super-wonderful-instagram-awesome. I have read so many “I moved to London and as soon as I stepped off the plane I had the time of my life posts” that it makes me want to barf. I moved to London, and while it was awesome, it was also really hard. I was unemployed for four months, my poor brother and Richard had to put up with me invading their space, I had plenty of shitty jobs with pyscho bosses and no it wasn’t always fun. I can’t handle it when other people’s experiences seem infinitely easier and better – it makes me depressed. So the big schadenfreude part of my personality likes reading blogs where people are bit honest about their not so wonderful experiences. It makes me feel better about myself. Therefore it’s only fair that I do not deny you the same (and I am very grateful to Cara from the blog www.peoniesandpolaroids.com for her very funny and honest writing. I happened upon this the other day and it made me feel infinitely better about my feelings about our move) .

It is absolutely lovely here and the Irish (most of them, aside from the horrible pub workers that wouldn’t let baby pug inside) are such warm, friendly people. And it also a really beautiful country and I think we will be really happy here. But, lordy I did forget what an utter pain in the arse it is to move. Before I commence the proper whinge, I will preface this by saying I know we had an easy move. We were extremely lucky because David’s work paid for the move, arranged the movers, had a relocation service help us to find a house to rent… All the really shitty stuff we had help with. But it was, actually still is, a pain. And it’s not the kind of pain that if it doesn’t kill you makes you stronger… no no no, this pain just kills you slowly… It’s the annoying things like banks being complete and utter sticklers for stupid, nonsensical rules. It’s the queuing to get various social security cards and the rudeness of the officials that you deal with. It’s realising once you have moved into your rental house, that there is no phone line and you have to wait two weeks just to get a phone line, and then another who knows how long to get the internet!!!! It’s the unpacking of boxes and realising that the movers for some reason unknown to me, decided to pack an entire box full of dirty dishes from the dishwasher that I had accidentally forgot to turn on the night before. And then there is not knowing anyone, not understanding anyone or have anyone understand you (yes I do realise we all speak English), and not having a familiar and comforting routine. I know these are complete first world problems, and I am sure a lot of people are thinking, “but this is all so exciting”. Yes it is. But when you are in it, and everything is new, sometimes you want the newness to please fade as quickly as damn possible.

But we will get there! There is a lot of exciting stuff on the horizon – not least the opportunity to settle into a boring and comforting routine in a new county. It is sure to be grand.