Our cat Georgie when he first saw the chickens
Something odd happened last night (by the way, the photos on this post are just ones I happen to like, rather than specific to the post!). Our retirement dream took a step closer. Nothing physical happened bar a bit internet surfing, but a major shift happened where it needed to happen first: in our minds.
We've batted around ideas before about what we want.
- somewhere with a small detached house to live in
- a few decent outbuildings for Martin to tinker with cars in peace
- probably rural for privacy
- an attempt at smallholding
But that's been it. Batting ideas. Nothing concrete had actually been decided and by when it would happen. So we used to wander round remarking on how lovely it would be to have more outbuildings. How lovely it would be if we were retired. How lovely it would be to grow our own food, including the animals for meat. How lovely it would be to have a smaller cosier house. Or worked from home.
It was almost like if we said it often enough we would come to believe it might be possible. Because we didn't really you know. Not really. Things like that don't happen to little people like us, they happen to people with money and grand plans and confidence. People like us get a gold carriage clock for 30 years service and sit in front of a one bar fire watching daytime TV as inflation eats into our meagre pensions.
So as well as our minds putting up irrational fear-driven obstacles, we were also wrestling with the real practical obstacles. A rural detached house with outbuildings is expensive everywhere you go. Every time we looked we found more than we were willing to spend. Much more. Somehow we thought Wales would be cheaper, but we weren't even close. Run-down hovels with outside toilets and postage stamp gardens are going for big money. Around £100k more than we would have after the house was sold and that's just plain disheartening. It would mean more mortgage. Which means going backwards, not forwards.
We got three meals-worth out of this onion
And then there's smallholding itself. It's no secret I like the idea of having a smallholding, but I've been changing my mind about it as time goes by and never really admitted it. I've been lurking on forums for years, reading people's posts about how difficult it is, how they live hand to mouth and never break even. Being in cold and draughty houses, not knowing how to pay big vets bills if they came in. A few enjoyed the life but on the whole people seemed to be really struggling. I don't want to do that, but still I wandered round talking about getting goats and geese and being self-sufficient.
Anyway, everything shifted yesterday. A chance surfing session before I cooked dinner led to us finding a way to have the small house and the outbuildings in the country for what we would get for this house, if not less. Suddenly the gold watch has disappeared (or in my case a meagre whip round in the office with a speech and some Marks and Spencer vouchers) and a plan appeared before our eyes.
It was like the yellow brick road in the Wizard of Oz - suddenly there is a very visible path in front of us that would be difficult NOT to follow.
My favourite colour - tomato red
Now, it won't happen for at least three years. We have the car to rebuild which takes us to August this year and then we want to spend a two years paying down the mortgage (so up to midsummer 2014). We also want to test how it might work if I carried on working and Martin retired by him taking a year's sabattical across 2013 and 2014 and learning how to generate income from some of the things he loves doing. So realistically, we won't be go anywhere until mid-2014 to the beginning of 2015, but the point is we have a date when we could start the process.
And then it clicked that I actually was doing smallholding skills voluntarily and with a lot of enjoyment...like making cider and liquers...cooking from scratch...keeping chickens...growing fruit and veg...well...
...suddenly it's all got very real. And very do-able.








