The Lion with a Friendly Face.


Today, right this very second, as I sit here writing, I am moving house.

Only this is not moving house as you would know it.

My house is in the UK, and I am in France. Believe me moving house is hard work, even if several hundred miles away from the house in question and the in-laws, the in-law’s friends (who I have never met), my parents and sister are actually doing the hard graft. My wonderful neighbour is making the tea and my mother in law has already made a bob or two at the local salvage yard.

Have you ever tried deciding whether to keep, bin or sell items described over the phone, when the items in question have long since deleted themselves from memory, or suffered the guilt associated with not actually being there to help? After all, why should these guys hand over a couple of their days to move my belongings when I am sitting on my sofa updating my blog? My fingers are twitching with the nervous need to be lending a hand.

In the immediate term the answer is simple, ‘husband à l’etranger’ is 4000km further away from the house than I am. I am pinned to my house because it is the middle of term-time, my buyers wouldn’t shift the completion date by one week to coincide with the end of term, any minute now four hungry kids are going to pile through the door, and ‘Petit Lapin’ is having her siesta on her inflatable bed in my bedroom. And thank heavens she is…

You see, moving house is hugely emotional, and leaving  a home means saying goodbye to friends and shutting the door for a final time. All of these things I cannot do – well save for being emotional of course, and i’m really good at that! When we left three and a half years ago we never said goodbye; no leaving party; no great fanfare;  I suppose we never really thought that we weren’t coming back. We left for adventure, and an adventure we have had and as we have undergone our adventure we have also transformed and realised that life has led us somewhere else.

Nearly every home that we have had has handed us the gift of someone special – someone that hasn’t made up a part of our family, but who has become family through kindness, generosity and spirited good nature. My neighbour became one of these people and she represents the best of my old home. In fact my old home used to be hers, until she moved into a house in the garden. She is so closely interwoven into the fabric of our family, that we could and would never disentagle her.

If I think about our old home, I see her coming to the door in the evening when ‘husband à l’etranger’ was working in France (funny that – he did once work there!) and holding out a plate of delicious stew for my dinner; I see her in my sitting room baby-sitting my children and refusing to take a penny; I see her walking across the driveway to haul away my basket of ironing, and returning it to me later on beautifully pressed; and I see her arriving with a cup of beetroot soup when she spotted me wallpapering a ceiling (carefully using my upturned face at a paper prop) during what normal people would call lunch time. And with my face as a paper prop, and unable to either answer the door or call out thanks, she left the steaming soup on the window cill. When I think about my neighbour I realise how I was blessed by her presence and when I think about leaving that home, despite the fact that I am not actually personally moving the remnants of furniture, I feel hugely sad at my loss.

Which is why today of all days I am delighted that ‘Petit lapin’ is taking a siesta in my bedroom; because at 7am this morning her mother knocked on my door and asked if it would ‘derange’ me (put me out), if I looked after her for the day. Petit Lapin had conjunctivitis and her mother had to go to work. And maybe I have had the luck to know more than most mothers how unconditional aide is golden, how it enriches, how it enables and how it embellishes life. I can’t help the people helping me, but I can help someone else.

When we first moved into our house our neighbour left a small clay lion with a friendly face in the garden to watch over us, and if there is one thing I can’t now leave behind, it’s lion. He represents my neighbour who watched over us with her friendly face, her generous gestures and her bonhomie.

Of course we’ll be back to visit – but for the rest of the time I have lion to remind me of  what I am leaving behind.

And for all those that have given their time and energy to us – Thank you!

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5 comments on “The Lion with a Friendly Face.

  1. Anna says:

    Oh Miranda, that’s lovely writing 🙂

  2. amelie88 says:

    Moving is always difficult, tough, and emotional, whether you are moving 4000 km away (and coordinating said move from a different country! I can’t imagine) or just up the road. We moved into the house we live in now 11 years ago and it’s only about a ten minute walk from where we used to live! However it was just as much a pain in the neck to box everything away and make small trips to move stuff we could move ourselves in before calling in the movers.

    Good luck with the move!

  3. It’s always a wrench to leave part of your old life behind, but it’s all about looking forward to the next adventure. We’ve moved house eight times now, and something tells me that’s probably not the final tally.
    I love your lion!
    And thanks for joining in the blog hop too.

  4. Amanda Leader says:

    What a beautiful blog post and a timely reminder that to give and receive a little kindness makes all our days better. Love Lion, he’s gorgeous!

  5. Alpine Mummy says:

    Wow, I do not envy you – moving is stressful enough when you’re actually there! Lovely post – good neighbours make life so much better xx

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