Rupert has left me....

He's coming back in eleven days though, hopefully – he's just gone to England to buy a house, as one does. We're hoping that he will find the perfect house, put in an offer and then, over the course of the next couple of months, we can settle remotely so that when we arrive in England at the end of this year/beginning of next, we will have a house to move into. There's nothing wrong with setting one's sights high, is there?

Hopefully, he will at least be able to find a nearly decent house and start negotiations. At the moment we are living in limbo. We don't really know where in England we will be living, except that we need to be within commuting distance of London and the Sir Henry Floyd Grammar School, which is where we're hoping that Sam will go. But until we have found a house, we will not be able to apply for schooling for the girls (not being in the sixth form, it's more complicated for them), we don't know whether we'll be able to take the piano (it's a full size concert grand), or the sofas (the only ones in Australia that we found comfortable) or whether we need to sell half our stuff. Until we have found a house, it will be very difficult to look forward.

But it's all a bit stressful. For one thing, we're not very good at being separated and this is the second time this year – bring on Moon River. For another, though I mostly trust him, this is hopefully the house we will live in for quite a while – the thought of moving again within the next 100 years, is not particularly appealing. And considering I will probably spend more time at home then he will – at least for a year or so - he'd better find one that I like!

Then there's the fact that the last time Rupert was in England – for a whole two weeks – he spent the entire period saying how much he hated it and how he couldn't wait to get back “home” to Australia. Now, just in case you haven't realised yet, it's been mostly him driving this whole decision to move back to the UK – he is the one who is desperate to go and is “convinced” that it is the right thing to do. So, since we've virtually signed the house away to someone else, made arrangements for my darling dog to go to a new home and are in the process of organising the removals people, am somewhat hoping that the lenses don't suddenly drop from his rosy tinted spectacles and he doesn't come rushing home determined to stay away from England forever.

More than all that, however, is the fact that this step is making the whole moving thing frighteningly real.