THE BOOK (and important areas from said masterpiece)

Here it is, before it's done too many miles and become too ragged, but I must stress this is still in daily use and a work in progress as I write (currently in Buena Vista, Virginia if that's not too much of a spoiler?!):

You'll note the tabs, also the clear plastic protective cover for longevity... this book was not purchased on a whim, there was careful consideration and a significant investment in this little beauty. The coloured tabs became a necessity as, despite the careful consideration, I had failed to get a book with segments to enable me to quickly find the area I needed to edit! No, I did not consider making a second, superior purchase, we are on a BUDGET (later to become a catchphrase echoing the Ross and Rachel era of 'we were on a BREAK!' And also said through gritted teeth.)

With the sale of the house dragging I had so much whirring round my tiny mind that we HAD to do, but with so much of it being dependent on selling the house it was just too far down the road to contemplate, and so I made a note. You will be relieved to hear that I will not divulge the entire contents of my master plan book. However, there is A LOT to consider when you decide to get rid of your 'life-clutter' and escape your usual comfort zone.  The sections include 'stuff for storage', 'stuff to sell/give away', 'stuff to take on the road'. Yes, there was a lot of 'stuff' spinning around my head! Add to that sorting property, beloved pets, 2 vehicles, finances and the never ending change of addresses to be done and I become slightly agitated just thinking about it again. And that's before doing any planning for the trip itself. Ah yes, the book was divided almost straight after purchase into the 'preparation' half and the 'journey' half, to be worried about another day, one step at a time.

Please be kind to me - list writing and organisation is an affliction I have suffered from an early age but actually no, I will not apologise for it, it has been a friend to me and is inherited from my lovely Mum. If I am half the list-writer that lady was I would be proud, so go on, do your worst but this is the truth of how we have made it here. I am grateful to 'the book' for my sanity, or whatever remnants remain in any case.

So how do you get rid of everything? And what are the valuable items that you need to keep, whether for financial or sentimental reasons? It's not easy. It reminded me of clearing our family home with my siblings, picking up each single item to carefully consider 'what does this spoon mean to me?' Who did it actually belong to? And is it worth anything if none of us want it?! In the end we probably kept things worth nothing and ditched a load of valuable antiques.  But ignorance is bliss and in the end it's too much hassle to worry about.

I am by no means a dab hand at e-bay or gum tree etc, but I gave it a try, my best try. One item sold far too quickly so I guessed I'd undervalued it and rejected the sale. It then failed to get any interest again.  Apart from that, to date I have actually sold ZERO items on any of these sites! Nothing else appeared to be of any interest to anyone- unless I was willing to take a pittance for my dining table set or unless I was able to deliver items to potential purchasers within a ridiculously small time window.  Do people not realise how very busy my life is since I have lists to write?!  So in the end we gave the majority of our worldly goods to friends for a little cash, our buyers (again for a little cash) or donated them to charity, which makes you feel a little warm inside but also impressed that they seemed so grateful for the 'tut' we basically dumped on them after all other avenues failed!  

We did also dip our toes into the sea of the boot sale. We both loaded the car with our unwanted goods and toiled for half a day in a field. Our earnings paid for the Sunday roast on the way home with about fifty quid to spare... but we had a nice day out and bumped into some chums along the way so it wasn't a complete waste of time!

Then we have left our sacred items, mostly guitars interspersed with some jewellery and other valuables, in the care of close friends and relatives until..... whenever.  And thanks must go to my sister, Sarah, her husband Clive and also to Simon's parents who have 'won' the honour of storing some boxes of property consisting of essential spare clothing and memories that are irreplaceable (but would also be very inconvenient to carry around the world).

In the midst of all this 'sorting', other things going on included both of us being refused a career break from work and me managing to break a bone in my foot.  I'm not sure looking back which one was more painful?! I guess I'd become convinced by my well-wishing friends that the career break was in the bag so when it was rejected and the subsequent appeal that I spent a large amount of time on also failed it did somewhat take the wind out of my sails. I felt  disappointed, undervalued and left wondering why I had put so much commitment, hard work and effort into a company that couldn't tell a good employee from those who just do enough to get by.  However, on a positive note, once I had got over the initial rejection it actually reinforced the fact that I was doing the right thing to turn my back on the job. Why should I waste any more of my life putting myself out for an organisation that didn't value me? And it meant that instead of 3 months notice, they would be getting my 28 days notice as late as possible when we knew that the sale was a done deal. Ha! Stick that in your pipe and smoke it!

Another thing we were leaving behind was our rock careers. Our cover group 'Indie-go!' (Don't forget the exclamation mark!) had never got off the ground entirely despite a couple of years practise and numerous different line-ups. It wasn't to be. But we still felt bad letting the other guys down, especially Simon's brother, Andrew. We set up a couple of final gigs and it was after the very last practise for the very last one that I managed somehow to twist my foot doing nothing more than stepping down onto uneven ground. This was on Tuesday 16th August. Of course it was just sprained wasn't it? But no, after three days rest I still couldn't weight-bare and it was off to A&E to be x-rayed and given the news that I'd fractured the fifth metatarsal in my right foot. Thankfully, the required treatment was nothing more complex than my having to wear the mother of all hefty, not very sexy knee-length black boots for around 6 weeks. Oh, and not being able to drive. Or walk far. Or do any exercise that put pressure on that foot. Thankfully, this gave me valuable time to work on my lists! But when I saw the consultant and was given the date of 7th October for my follow-up appointment that changed our plans to a degree. OCTOBER? We wanted to have left the country by then! Thank goodness we had not got around to booking our flights by then.  Thank goodness I was convinced that something may go wrong with the house sale! Pessimism does pay.... on the odd occasion.

Here we are on stage after our blinding last gig (even if I do say so myself) at Oaklees, Rochford: note the boot has been shunned from the line-up.

The boot was a hassle, however it did have its advantages....
Firstly, despite many people wondering why I would even go in to work with a broken foot after the 'career break saga' as it shall be known from here on, I had to be ferried to and from work to enable me to do my hours. 'Cordey cabs' was set up with colleagues sharing the weight of picking me up from home and dropping me off, all of which had to be done within working hours so as not to incur overtime. The benefit of this was that I ended up working 9-3 pm most days thereby getting lovely long evenings at home for planning. I was also on restricted duties meaning that I was office-bound with no contact with the lovely public. It turned out to be quite a nice way of winding down.

Secondly, you get special treatment even though you're not even properly special!  We had to go to the US embassy in London for an interview on Monday 22nd August in order to apply for six month visas to visit the States.  I could write another whole, tedious section on the online application form and how frustratingly shite it is before you can even get an appointment - but I'll save you.  In addition, you pay a hefty £123 per person for the experience. Here I am queuing patiently in queue number 1 under the watchful eye of Sam the American Eagle:

It was no easy task getting the train into London and it was thanks to an anonymous Metopolitan Policing friend that we managed to blag a 'blue taxi' from Liverpool Street to the embassy rather than battling the tube and the mean streets in my condition.  At the front of queue number 1 we were directed to the end of a much longer queue, number 2, for security. I promise I wasn't even milking it, but as soon as we set off the staff member we had seen chased after us and apologised that she hadn't seen 'the leg' and not to worry about the queue- skip right to the front. It felt like getting a cheeky upgrade at the airport, I was smug and really pleased that the boot could actually be a force for good! The end result was that we both passed the test to get visas that would subsequently be sent to us in the post within a couple of weeks. And I didn't even have to get my leg out for that bit!

Meanwhile, those searches to do with something to do with selling the house were still in the pipeline.... I was not impressed.  Everything was still hanging in the balance.