The MIRACLE of What Happened Next…

It’s been 2 months and 29 days since my last confession… ie. blog post and I’m wondering where on earth to begin.  The stories are backing up and days have merged into months… so let’s start with the fact that we manifested THE absolute MIRACLE of ALL miracles, out of seemingly nowhere

Remember how we moved into our new dream rental home at the end of February and within 3 weeks it was sold? And we thought we were going to be homeless… and then we were thrown a life line at the last minute by the new owner, who changed her mind and rented us the little casita house afterall?  Well, it had all been such a nightmare of a wake up call,  that we were shocked into action to start looking into buying whatever we could.  Perhaps a small piece of land where we could live in a caravan until miraculous abundance would rain down from the sky and start growing on nearby trees to save us.

I believe in manifesting and the law of attraction… because it does work.  But it’s not always easy to keep your vibes high and your vision alive when you’re down in the dumps and can’t see a way out.  However, our vision board and dream hadn’t changed.  We may have felt battered and bruised but we weren’t down and out.  The dream of having an off grid home that could become a retreat centre… all, of course, with my obligatory and yearned for view of snow capped mountains, was still very much alive.

We had nothing to lose by starting to look around and see what was possible.  My Gorgeous Man’s flat was still on the market in Edinburgh and only just covering its own costs through being run as an Airbnb…. but it was still weirdly unsold and a very sore topic.  I had learnt to put on my flak jacket if the flat was to be talked about and to think very carefully before I spoke.

So we started looking.  And then tried not to get even more stressed and despondent.  Even a ruin was coming in at around 50k… add on renovation and rebuilding works and the price essentially doubled.  We realised very quickly that we couldn’t even afford a ruin.  So we started doing our homework and looked at plots of land.  And we unearthed all the ins and outs, problems and horror stories of even getting planning permission in the first place.

We felt Stumped.

Very Stumped.

CUE MIRACLE! 

The estate agent that we were working with, had turned out to be the agent we’d unwittingly already seen being interviewed on A Place in the Sun on Channel 4 in 2017.  We’d been addicted to that programme back then…  it had been our inspiration and reminder to keep our dream alive through the long, grey Scottish winters.  Randomly turning on the TV to catch that Spanish Alpujarra episode had felt like a mahoosive sign from the Universe to not give up on the dream during a really rotten and tough time.

The agent, Steve, was a real character and we instantly liked and trusted him. He’d been through his own journey of moving his life and family to Spain many years ago and he was totally ok with us saying… show us anything that’s really, really cheap.  He got it.  And he got on board.

So on the morning of Thursday 12th April 2018, with my April Channelling Love Retreat starting the very next day… Steve and his work partner Jack (remember that crazy house hunting trip last year?) took us to see a ruin and a ‘nave’ that had been on the market for a while… because they were a ruin… and a nave. 

A ‘nave’ is basically a small shed/building where farmers can keep their tools etc for when they come to work on the land.  They are not legally liveable dwellings.  But anyway, Steve and Jack were taking us to see them, because this nave was supposedly different.  It had legal paperwork. 

Whoopydidoo!

The ruin was a complete and utter no go… we were polite but we swiftly moved on to the nave. 

It was a very bumpy drive up a rough 2km track with a rather perilous and steep drop off to the left at one point… but OMG the views down over the reservoirs and my beloved Sierra Lujar were simply spectacular.   

The view down to the reservoirs and Mediterranean!
The view from the top of the track down to the reservoirs and Mediterranean!

We then had to get out and walk the remaining 10 minutes because there wasn’t legal access rights to drive along the last part of the track.  I could feel My Gorgeous Man’s hackles rise and his energy instantly upgraded into high alert mode. 

I however, was just in awe of the feel of the land.

Every corner we walked round, my heart leapt.  And we walked deeper and deeper into what felt like ‘DinglyDell’ Fairy land.  There was magic there and I felt it to the core of my being.  We walked past a huge ‘whispering’ pine tree… through the tall, overgrown waving meadow grasses and then…. there she was.  The nave that was so much more than a nave, sitting in pride of place with no real neighbours and views out towards the Lanjaron and Lecrin valley.

Our first view of the Nave!

I fell in love with her before the front door was even opened. 

Despite basically being a purpose built concrete box… she had been built with love by an English woman who had lived there for quite a few years.  It had since been empty for a number of years, and the land was now wild and abandoned.  It had 80 olive trees, lemon trees, pomegranate trees, crab apple and almond trees.  The white washed building had old blue shutters, sea shells had been hand placed around the windows, some of which had funky blue and green glass panes.

And… on the other side of thick wooden front door we were amazed to find a fitted kitchen and a bathroom with full size bath!  And a massive pink chimney!  At a total of only 12m long, it was just an open living space… with no bedroom… but it had such a lovely feel to it that our initial reservations of living in such a small space were thrown to the wind.

The miracle home behind the front door!
The miracle home behind the front door!

We were told in no uncertain terms that due to the strict Spanish building laws we wouldn’t be able to extend out or up… what we saw was what we would get.  So, it came down to the question of could we basically live in the inside space of a studio flat on the side of a mountain.  Me and MGM,  with our rather large and long, rescue greyhound Sir Maxelot… all living in one room…. 24/7?

My heart was saying YES!  YES! YES!

Life in Spain is about outdoor living… we would be able to create an outdoor living and dining area… but my head was also saying… hang on a minute… what about when it’s pissing down with rain, or blowing a gale and freezing in winter… I like and need my space.  MGM’s the same.  And Sir Maxelot’s as bad as the both of us.  And there ain’t no space in there.   And how on earth can I work and share channellings without any privacy?

Well… lo and behold, down on a lower terrace, there was an abandoned caravan… which I instantly claimed as the new Channelling Love office.  Phew.  First dibs won.  MGM was just as relieved as I was… we now had a bit of ‘indoor’ breathing space.

The bliss of SPACE in the form of an abandoned caravan!
The bliss of SPACE in the form of an abandoned caravan!

 

Of course there was the slight problem that there was no electricity.

And more importantly there was…

NO WATER!

Solar power!  Yay!  Another of our dreams could become a reality.

Water…

NOT so easy. 

There were weekly acequia rights to take the water from the mountain irrigation channels… but  no water flows during the summer months… and we were coming into summer.  So there was no water.

We had always said that we would never buy anywhere that didn’t have a continual, year round water supply.  Water is way more precious than gold here.

Mmmmm….

But… oh my… we loved that land and wee hoose. 

AND we could even see the snow capped Sierra Nevada mountains to the north!

That wee hoose!
That wee hoose!

We’d also originally said we wanted to be higher up in the mountains with views looking down into the valleys… and the nave was admittedly in quite a low dip under the crest of a hill. 

Would its location affect internet access.  Without a strong signal, I can’t work.  Fullstop.  

Well… amazingly… there were 4 strong bars of 4G!  No guarantee of broadband mind you, but it was a good start.

WOOOOHOOOOO!!

That did it for me.  I’d already moved in, but MGM had his practical head on, and he was seeing the huge amount of work that had to be done to make it into a home for us.  And he was also mentally adding up the costs of installing solar power and bringing running water onto the land and into the house.

Oh dear.

Through all the scenarios running through our heads and hearts the reality was that we weren’t even in a position to buy it.  We left ‘that wee hoose’ seeing and feeling ourselves living there and absolutely loving it.  We were very brave and sensible and tried to detach our hearts from it.  After all, anyone could come along with an offer and it would be gone.  Just like that.

But… this is where the miracle really kicked in.

Driving home back down that track, Scott’s phone rang.  It was his very excited estate agent in Edinburgh.

An offer of the asking price had been put in for his flat!

WOW!!

OMG!!!

REALLY??!!

The Universe had well and truly spoken.

Scott’s flat had sold, literally within minutes of us finding our dream home!

It was a helluva great big Universal sign!   It was the miracle we’d been asking for….. holding out for… and trusting would come.

We were going to be able to buy that gorgeous wee hoose after all.

HOLYFRIKKINGDOODAHS…

What an incredible day.  It was another moment and day that our lives changed forever and showed us the miracle of not giving up.  You just never know what’s round that corner.  You just never know!

Next week, I’ll share the crazy domino effect that was pushed into action as we said yes to our dream home and the reality checks of what it all actually meant.  Hang onto your hats because this miracle was just the beginning!

Love,

 

 

 

 

PS.   In the spirit of my openness… I would like it to be officially known that while this photo depicts how I began to write this blog… and that I posted my partying intent on Facebook for a bit of bubble infused blogging with crisps and chocolate on the side… all remained completely untouched.  It was just too damn hot and water was the only possible consumable of the day 😉

Yet Another Miracle

of living the dream in 34 degrees… and loving it!

Untouched evidence of a naughty writing plan... that never came to fruition.
Untouched evidence of a naughty writing plan… that never came to fruition.

WTF Part 4 – The Move and Finale…

The kitchen terrace of our dream rental home became the holding point for our life in transition...

Monday 2nd April 2018 dawned.  Moving day.  And the soap opera began.  Unsurprisingly we hadn’t slept much so we both chugged back the Berocca and  hit the floor running.

First stop… pick up Alix from her casita next door at 9am… she was bang on time with a big old black suitcase, wheelie bag, small bag, plastic bag and handbag.  The plastic bag was for the bin… everything else was for her new life.  Her car was left parked by the casita and we were entrusted with its key…  ready to hand over  to the transporter company that would be taking it to Palma in a few days time

She walked away and didn’t even want a private moment to say goodbye to her home of the last 30 odd years.  Stoic.

We pulled out of the drive, turned right and headed into Orgiva… I think all of us with butterflies in our stomachs.  We went straight to Galindos for a strong shot of coffee and we sat down outside for her last Alpujarra breakfast of a slab of toasted baguette with pureed tomato paste… except My Gorgeous Man had forgotten his phone and today was really not the day to be without a phone… so he went home again… and was reminded yet again that we really did need petrol… the light was well and truly on but the petrol station was the other way… so he just winged it on vapour and a prayer.

Orgiva Main Street...
Orgiva Main Street…

Considering it was pretty early in the morning, Alix and I surprisingly dove deep into girl chats and once again I wished with all my heart that she wasn’t going.  MGM made it back, muttering about ‘must get petrol’ and with his phone safely in his back pocket.  Time for breakfast, round two.  We enjoyed ourselves so much that Alix had to rush back up the road and across the square to the Notary for the final sale transfer at 10.30am.  And then the waiting game began… it’s Spain you see… and nobody really knew how long the sale would actually take.  And we also became the custodians of Alix’s non essential bag.

At this point, we thought everything was going really well and would continue to go really well.  But soap operas are boring when things go too well and our life out here in the Alpujarra is anything but boring.

So here we go….

My Gorgeous Man and I were tasked with changing Alix’s internet over into our names… so after the second round of coffees, we wandered through the narrow streets to the internet office and the infamous Molly.  A wonderful colourful character, very much on the ball and… thank you God… English.  Between the banter about the fullness and wavy luscious quality of Andrew Garfield’s hair in Spiderman… we pushed through the confusion of Casita and Cortijo and why the Cortijo internet (our dream rental home) was still in our friends name who had moved out 3 weeks ago, and we’d moved in… but we were now moving into Alix’s casita next door… still needing to pay the bill for our friend… and yes, we did want an upgrade from the 10gigs a month.  I love living here… if this had happened in the UK there would have been red tape galore, call centres and ‘no can do’s ‘… but here, it was all sorted with a laugh and a smile and we took away the piece of paper that Alix needed to sign to give permission for it all to fall into place.

It was hysterical, light relief.

No news from Alix… so we decided to sit in the square and have a drink… it was practically lunchtime by then….  and we could fulfil our task of looking out for her friend who was to be entrusted with the post box key that was safely in my bag.

Time passed.  And more time passed.

The Plaza cafe... and waiting zone!
The Plaza cafe… and waiting zone!

I received a WhatsApp from our friends that used to live in the Cortijo… her and hubby were on their way into town.
“Come and join the waiting game!”  I said… and soon enough they were at our table.  It was a sunny day, but they commiserated with us about the sale and we could see they felt pretty bad that they managed to dodge the ‘homeless’ bullet.  “It’s ok… it’s life,” we said.  And it is.  The Universe moves in mysterious ways.  Very mysterious ways.

We finally see the estate agent striding out of the Notary office looking a tad tense and grim to say the least.  And then we see the new owner practically skipping out of the main doors with glee and heading straight to a table nearby where she plonked herself down next to a man we’d never seen before with 3 crazy, noisy, small dogs.  A bottle of fizz was soon delivered to their table.

Then Alix comes out… looking rather drained and in need of a drink.  We flag her down and over she comes with great big hugs for our friends and her previous tenants… then off she goes to get some photocopying done…or something like that… but…. “Alix… wait!”  “Can you sign the internet transfer permission please!”  She scrabbles around for her Spanish NIE number, squiggles her signature and we sigh with relief that something has been achieved towards our move.

But, we still don’t have a rental agreement to move that afternoon into the casita from the New Owner.

Suddenly New Owner bounces over to us all… and we introduce our friend to New Owner because Friend now has to sign the internet over to New Owner!  Molly must have had a laugh that day.  And off they go.

By now it’s very much past lunch time, but we don’t want to move because we don’t know where Alix is… and we have her bag… the postbox key to be handed over to her friend if we see her… and we don’t have a clue what’s happening.

MGM and... coffee!
MGM and… coffee!

But we eventually decided to go back to Molly with Alix’s internet transfer permission… only to find New Owner sitting at Molly’s desk trying to set up her own.  New Owner is a wonderful wild card… who’s English is actually pretty good but when you’re talking about internet, phone lines and contracts it’s not that easy and there’s not much similarity to her native language of German.

We stood and waited our turn and when New Owner turns round to see us… there’s more great big happy hugs all round.  She hugs tight.  She’d had bubbles.  And we bring up the subject of our rental agreement.

“Aaaah… yes… Paul the estate agent is going to sort it out… we need to go see him!”  But it’s now getting very close to siesta closing time.  Jeez!!

We disentangle ourselves from the hugs and head back to the square to see if Alix has surfaced!  She has!  But we have to go to the bank first so she can give us our deposit back!  So we trot back down the road and into the quiet sombreness of the bank… where I thought I heard the teller saying that she couldn’t take more cash out than the regular daily allowance.  Oooops.  Turns out it was my Spanish that was off… and we are unceremoniously handed an envelope with a wad of €100 notes and asked to sign the receipt.  Job done.  We felt rich… even though the abundance was just passing through to become another deposit.

We then crossed the road to the estate agent who’s been tasked with our rental agreement… only to find that there isn’t one.  It’s not even drawn up.  And he’s very late for a property viewing as the market has suddenly taken off…. AND we can see that the remnants of super high stress levels from the palaver at the Notary’s office over Spanish banks, transfers and systems that didn’t compute…  are just about to pop.  A call comes through saying that the viewers went ahead and didn’t like the track to the property, so the viewing is off.  Cue, sigh of relief…. but bye bye commission.  He takes our names… asks how long we want the contract for and anything else we want added in.  Contract will be ready in a couple of days.  And apparently it’s ok for us to move in that afternoon.

Being an ex-director and project manager extraordinaire… My Gorgeous Man isn’t comfortable that we don’t have the security of a rental contract.  But hey… there was nothing we could do about it.  Deep breath.  Sigh.

So we stand up, shake hands, pick up Alix’s bag that we’ve still got…  and find her outside at her friends shop, trying to convince her to come and take a couple of the feral cats she’s been feeding on the Casita terrace for the past few years.  An agreement was struck, but the reality is, the cats fought back big time and there was no keeping them in the box.  They were staying put.

We were going to have to deal with them ourselves. 

This was our biggest dread. 

Feral cats and Sir Maxelot. 

The trained racer and hunter of all things small, fast and furry. 

Sigh. 

But also… reality check… we now had a roof over our head for the next 6 months, which just a few days before, we didn’t think we would have.

We head back to the square and the same cafe that we’d based ourselves in… and order beer.  Then we see Alix’s friend and wave her over and admit that we are non the wiser as to where Alix has now gone… but here’s the postal box key… and she hands us back some cash that has been outstanding… as happens with friends who don’t expect their friend to suddenly be up and gone within 10 days!

It was all getting very surreal.  That friend leaves… and Alix turns up and orders a huge glass of wine.  She’s talking about giving us all her contacts names, numbers and secrets of everyone she can think of who might be able to find us or help us with finding a long term secure home.  We were soooo over the adventure of moving… but right to the end she was trying to help us.

In between all of this, she’s discovered that her friend’s, daughter’s ex-husband is driving to Granada at 3pm and she’s trying to call him to blag a lift so she doesn’t have to get the bus… and can just hop on her flight to her new life in Palma the next morning. She literally caught him leaving the house and we had just a few minutes to get her to Baraka where he said he’d pick her up.

Glug go the drinks and we walk back to the car, which ironically is already parked at Baraka.  Orgiva is really quite small.  MGM gallantly pulls out her big suitcase, and then all offers of help are refused as she gives us great big heartfelt hugs and turns round to battle her suitcase, wheelie and the bag that we’d been charged with, across the road.  There was a lump in my throat as she turned her back… but no sooner had she crossed the road than a black car pulled up, man jumps out, grabs her cases and puts them in the car… and off she goes.  Gone.  Goodbye Alix.

I do admire her courage and independence hugely.

MGM and I were left feeling a bit numb, exhausted and wrung out.  And… stressed.  And we still had to move out of the Cortijo that night as New Owner would be moving in the next morning.

Getting in the car we remembered to go and get petrol and it was there that I went on livestream in my Channelling Love Membership Group because I had been due to do their weekly Illumination Oracle card readings.  The slim chance that that could have happened had long since disappeared… and instead of getting supportive inspirational insights, they got a bit of an in the moment apologetic torrent.  Keeping it real.

Driving back we realised that there was still a huge amount of work. 

Like… pack… clean… move. 

MGM, my hero had commandeered the wheelbarrow from behind the Casita because weirdly… it was easier and closer to wheel our life across the garden and through the hedge rather than carry everything the length of the terrace and long front garden to the parking place to pack up the car and then drive the long way round the front… a few times… because we’d taken the storage box off the roof thinking we wouldn’t be moving again.

The wheelbarrow... MGM's choice of removal transport...
The wheelbarrow… MGM’s choice of removal transport… and the casita…

My job was to pack everything up and take it down to the kitchen… where we would then move the loads out on to the small terrace that was enclosed by the emergency baby gate we’d brought for all gaps that needed to be filled against Sir Maxelot’s lack of recall.  MGM would then… load up the wheelbarrow and trundle across the garden and through the bushes to our latest residence.  And I would then clean.  Not that there was much of a clean needed as we’d only been there 3 weeks. 

Perhaps I’ve mentioned that already.

The kitchen terrace of our dream rental home became the holding point for our life in transition...
The kitchen terrace of our dream rental home became the holding point for our life in transition…

Poor Sir Maxelot… he had been settling into his new home so well, but he now knew that shit was about to happen.  He began to get agitated and stressed and wouldn’t go to his bed where he generally sleeps most of the day… he was always in the wrong place at the wrong time and continually at the kitchen terrace doors… where he knew he could spy on the enemy cats that slipped through the hedge to taunt him from the other side of the baby gate..

We shuffled our life backwards and forwards for almost 3 hours.  Yup 3 hours.

But it was towards the end of the epic transfer  that I came downstairs from cleaning to meet a very red in the face and very sweaty MGM with a very bright eyed Sir Maxelot by his side being held by his flimsy anti-tic collar.

“Didn’t you hear me?”  MGM demands…

“Er no… what’s the matter?” I ask

“How could you not hear me… I’ve been shouting my head off for help!”
“I’m sorry… I was upstairs cleaning the bedroom… these old walls are so thick…”

Turned out the impossible had happened.  Max had spied the baby gate was open and our old, grey, lazy, beloved couch potato of a dog had suddenly and miraculously turned into Sputnik and headed literally for the hills behind us.  In the 2 years that we’ve been his human parents… he has never shown any interest in walks, exercise or let alone running… but apparently despite his kronky arthritis he was up on the second terrace before MGM had even computed that he was on the run.

The second miracle was that the “Stop my dog!” angels were on the ball and MGM somehow caught him.  He still doesn’t remember exactly how.  But he does remember the walk of shame home.  We still can’t believe that happened.  It rocked us to the core and it became very apparent that with the stress of feral cats living on his doorstep, Sir Maxelot was now going to be hugely triggered every time he went outside.

It was very sad to realise that after making such leaps and bounds into his new found calm and confidence, he was going to have to remain on the lead to even be walked around his new garden… which didn’t have a fence… it was a no brainer, especially after his Houdini escapade. And let’s face it,  it would be essential for his safety…. and also for the lives of the resident the feral cats.

Bigger Sigh.

Back on the leash and on the hunt for cats...
Back on the leash…

Finally, by early evening, our life was on the other side of the hedge and it was time to walk across with Sir Maxelot to our new beginnings.

Well, we got the welcome we didn’t want.  A parade of cats.  And Sir Maxelot went absolutely mental and it was heartbreaking and scary to see his genes and training kick in so hard.  He was prancing all over the place, pulling, barking, panting, straining, stressing and there was nothing for it but to take him straight inside and set up his bed and try and calm him down.

The frikking cat's just sitting there!!
The frikking cat’s just sitting there!!

Except he didn’t calm down.  He became more and more stressed and agitated.  Heavy breathing… panting… pacing the casita… we could see his heart pounding and the confusion in his eyes as to why this was all happening.  We knew his arthritis was flaring after his sprint and that he was in pain… but his DNA was overpowering and all he wanted was to chase those furry ferals that he could sense on the other side of the door.  When he eventually lay down, it was like he was in a trance… eyes, glazed and slightly bulging, hard panting, tongue hanging out and we felt utterly helpless.

He became so distressed that he shat in the kitchen and took a huge dive and we thought we were going to lose him.

So for the first night in our latest home, I went to bed alone and MGM slept on the sofa next to Sir Maxelot’s bed, to keep him company and to try to help him feel more secure and calm.

It was not a good first night. 

And we resolved there and then, that we absolutely HAD to find OUR home as soon as possible.

The morning after... Sir Maxelot has top priority for the sofa...
A frazzled MGM on the morning after… Sir Maxelot has top priority for the sofa…

Sir Maxelot made it through the night. 

We were frazzled, but our little family had made it and now we were hoping for a bit of clear blue water to settle in.   I had almost 2 weeks to properly recharge my batteries and get my health back on track before my next Channelling Love Retreat started. 

But our first week in the casita was hugely stressful and anything but restful.  It turned into the ‘cats and Sir Maxelot management programme.’  Not helped at all by 5 little furry f*cks… aka… small noisy dogs moving into the Cortijo with New Owner… who charged en masse towards us every time we came out of our front door.  We put up some plastic temporary fencing in an attempt to create safe space for Sir Maxelot but these little guys just went under it.  There was just no respite for any of us if we wanted to go outside… and we began to feel like prisoners in our own home.

So when I received a phone call just a few days before my retreat was about to begin, that my mother had been taken into hospital with heart irregularities, there was a tiny part of me that was secretly relieved that I would have to go home within the week… and the rest of me just felt guilty.  My mother rallied by the way… she’s a superstar.

Surely there would be a breakthrough and something ‘good’ would happen for us soon!

As it turned out… there was a glimmer on the horizon!  More of that next time

Love,

 

 

 

 

PS…
It turned out the transporter company couldn’t come down the narrow windy road to the casita to pick up Alix’s car… so we received some rather fraught messages asking us to drive her car to an abandoned garage factory area on the outskirts of Orgiva where the massive transporter would be able to pull in to pick it up.

By then it was dark, I drove our car and MGM drove her car with no paperwork, no insurance and no real idea of where we were going and just hoping that we would realise that ‘THIS’ was the spot.  We tried out a couple of spots but eventually pulled in… to what was the obvious one… Doh… and hoped to God the police didn’t come and ask why we were loitering in a English car and a Spanish one that wasn’t ours and was filled to the brim with lifelong possessions that wouldn’t fit in a suitcase.

When the transporter arrived… we almost pooped our pants.

It was Mahoosive. 

Much manouvering was done by the jolly driver and he then drove Alix’s car up onto the ramps of the totally empty double layered monster of a truck thing.

We took photos… handed over the key… took bit of paper and prayed that it would get there.  A few days later we heard from Alix that the car had arrived…  minus her laptop and folding bicycle that had been stolen from inside.  And there was nothing that anyone could prove or do about it.  Bugger.

Mahoosive and chaotic...
Mahoosive and chaotic…

WTF Just Happened – Part 3 – The Homeless Aftermath

The beauty of Orgiva and Sierra Lujar mountain.

So there I was in an overly emotional, exhausted heap, My Gorgeous Man was in Hong Kong keeping up his residency and looking for work… and from opposite sides of the world we were both hanging in the “Where the F*ck are we going to live,” limbo.

The next day, Alix our landlady, invited me over for a late lunch and a good few slugs of wine.  She gave me a bit of hope by saying that we should approach the new owner and officially ask if we could rent the casita.  So I wrote an email and she forwarded it to the estate agents to be passed on.  There was perhaps hope after all… and through her unending positivity, I found myself believing that we were saved and actually moving into her casita.  Phew.  Alix’s fabulous, unconventional, rebellious and non conformist company had really lifted my spirits.

But back in the cortijo and on my own again later that evening, I found myself crying my heart out. I rallied against the injustices.  I resisted accepting what had happened.  I allowed the full force of my totally unreasonable jealousy and resentment to surface that the new owner had come out of her divorce and bought her dream home, seemingly, ‘ just like that’… while I had lost EVERYTHING after making that horrendous but very necessary decision to Ieave my marriage, my whole life and my beloved Brazil.  My heart’s spiritual home.

I was so angry at the Universe.  I felt betrayed. 

Recreio Beach in Rio de Janeiro
Brazilian Beach LIfe in Rio de Janeiro…

MGM was back in Hong Kong having a great time catching up with friends albeit while on the look out for work opportunities… and I fell into the pit of martyrdom and self pity.

Following my frikking heart was looking anything but a dream. We were going to be homeless, we were struggling to make ends meet, I’d been feeling increasingly ill for the last couple of months and everyone in the whole wide world was having a better time than me. 

My black hole felt very black indeed.
And I couldn’t even be arsed to do the washing up.
And I love washing up.
Weird but true.
But that’s how rotten I felt.

Something had to shift… and I knew I was the one that had to help myself.  Nothing changes if you don’t change first.   

So  I reached out to a local healer who works with tissue salts…  and she booked me in for a couple of days time.  She had worked miracles with Sir Maxelot’s arthritis and I really felt she was the one that I could open up to and trust.

And as my hero of an MGM had cut his trip short to come home and help with the “Oh My God we’re going to be homeless” situation,  he was to arrive back that same morning. 

Things were looking up.  Only 2 days to wait.

That day eventually dawned.  But before I could go and see the healer… and then drive the 90 minutes down the road to pick up MGM from Malaga Airport… there was a humungous f*ck up with MGM’s staff travel ticket and it didn’t look like he would be able to get back to Spain, after all…. even though he had enjoyed a ‘freebie’ business class seat all the way from Hong Kong to Heathrow. 

The Big Bird that brought MGM home from Honkers...
The Big Bird that brought MGM home from Honkers…

At not even 6am, the furtive flurry of highly stressed messages, expletives, calls, lost patience and desperation began.  One of the ‘perks’ of having worked 23 years for an airline… is cheap flights and a bonus ‘freebie’ every year.  Except, the reality is that it’s a frikking lottery and it becomes the survival of the fittest for whoever has the highest unload priority to get that all important seat.  It wasn’t helped that morning by increasingly fed up ground staff making him feel the lowest of the low for being a staff travel passenger in the first place.  When staff travel works, it’s absolutely amazing… but when it doesn’t, it can be sheer hell. 

So out came the credit card again and I bought a whole new staff booking and the further hell began for MGM to wait till the last minute to see if there was a spare seat left after check-in closed to the public.

It’s hard to believe that I spent over 13 years using staff travel tickets to commute to my Heathrow flying base while I lived between Brazil and Scotland.  I thought nothing of it back then.  “Bit like getting on a bus,” I used to say.  But during those heady years I was generally top of the priority list… and there was an unspoken allegiance between staff to help each other.  Corporate games have changed all of that and staff moral is now in tatters.  It’s heartbreaking to witness the downward slide after having lived through the best of the ‘good ole days.’

Anyway, I couldn’t bear to tell MGM that during all the stress of ‘flights, no flights, your ticket isn’t valid from Gatwick and the flight is full anyway.’…. that Alix had phoned and dropped the bombshell that the new owner had categorically said a final “NO” to us renting the casita. 

She was so upset for us that she’d actually put the phone down on me. 

My stomach had lurched, a wave of awfulness moved through me and then I just went numb.

By 10am MGM messaged me to say that the ‘staff travel angels’ had stepped in and he had no idea how, but he was on the flight to Malaga after all.

Phew.  YES!!! 

Thank you Angels!!!  

You see… miracles do still happen!

When you shift your mindset... miracles are your new reality...
When you shift your mindset… miracles are your new reality…

At 10.30am I was sitting in front of the healer saying ‘that I’d had enough’ and was holding back the tears as I spilled the beans on all my physical, emotional and mental goings on.  She sat there nodding with a little smile on her face… while I tried to say that I think it’s adrenal fatigue because that’s what Google says and I feel sick at the thought of going on social media.  But she turned round and said

“IT’S THE MENOPAUSE.”

“You are the perfect age and those are the classic symptoms.”

“You need to change your life.”

Fuck Me.  On top of everything else… I’m now old too.

51 years old on paper… but so not ready to accept being 51.

Jeez.

She was however concerned about the state of my nervous system and gave me remedies to take there and then, ‘on the house.’  “Emergency help,” she said.  I left there with a rather large collection of remedies and supplements… everything to help alleviate the anxiety, fatigue, depression, headaches, weight gain, brain fog and all the other stuff that I hadn’t told anyone else about.

And then off I drove to Malaga… in a haze… with Google Maps leading the way. 

It was a good drive and I felt such relief in feeling the healer’s support and for receiving the help for my rather ragged state of being.  I breathed in the stunning mountain scenery, blue sky, warm sun and sheer gratitude for living in Spain….  and for just not being back in the oppressive greyness of Scotland.   

Sierra Lujar... the mountain that captured my heart in the Spanish Alpujarras.
Sierra Lujar… the mountain that captured my heart in the Spanish Alpujarras.

AND my knight in shining armour would soon be landing and waiting for me at the airport.  WOOHOOOO!

“Find the gratitude,” I kept telling myself. 

Gratitude shifts the shitty vibes!

MGM had landed safely and we agreed to meet at Starbucks… even though neither of us felt like having one.  He was exhausted and venting off about the staff travel calamity and stress… while I was holding it together wondering when I was going to tell him we definitely didn’t have a home, after telling him that we may well have a home, just the day before.

He offered to drive.  I protested, but he won.  And we drove out of the airport straight into the heavy Malaga traffic which certainly did neither of our stress levels any good.

I probably shouldn’t have told him about Alix’s phone call while we were stuck nose to tail in a traffic jam with the usual crazy Spanish drivers not using rear view mirrors and just doing whatever the hell they wanted.  But it just blurted out.  And then he got told that his Hot Hostie girlfriend was turning into a crusty old woman… so that didn’t help his mood much either.  It’s no wonder we took a wrong turn and then got caught up in even worse traffic desperately fighting our way around a mega roundabout… just to go all the way back to the last exit, to come all the way back again… and totally losing our sense of direction and simply not trusting what the Google BEEEATCH was telling us to do.

It took us a lot longer to get ‘home’ than we anticipated.  A lot longer.  And we vowed to remember that we don’t turn off at that turn off… ever, ever again.  Ever.

Once ‘home’ MGM passed out and I watched more Vera.

We resigned ourselves to extensive property searches online and set up a great big positive vision board above the fireplace with lots of pictures to reflect our dream home… with a very specific list of what we wanted right now.  And of course, the abundance to make it all happen.

Seriously amazing 'spaceship' clouds over the Cortijo...
Seriously amazing ‘spaceship’ clouds over the Cortijo…

Two days after MGM arrived home the new owner turns up to measure out the house, despite already having been given the paper plans.  I couldn’t face her… but MGM is the perfect gent and helps her out and is friendly, open and good company…. even though on the inside he’s just as devastated as me.  But maybe, just maybe making a good impression might help to change her mind about having us as tenants.  He even lent her his measuring tape, opened the unopenable door to the storage space below and laughed his way through it all… while  I just hid behind the swimming pool trees with Sir Maxelot… still rampant with jealousy and not trusting myself to meet and greet.  I’ve never been able to hide my feelings… something that my dear departed Dad always worried about.

After about half an hour, she happily skipped across the garden, slipped through the bushes and headed to Alix’s casita… where we predicted she would be ripped a new a-hole for turning up unannounced and for having accessed our ‘home’ without prior appointment.  Alix is hugely protective of privacy and not afraid to speak her mind.  We loved her for that.  So we were super surprised to hear the next day, that they had actually cracked open a bottle of wine and put the world to rights.  And our Alix, had again put forward the case for keeping us as long term tenants in the casita.

The new owner had said she would sleep on it… because she had friends and family she wanted to stay there.  She would let us know her decision the next day.

It was a very, very long 24 hours… and we desperately tried not to get our hopes up… again.

She eventually turned up later in the afternoon and after securing Sir Maxelot inside, we sat around the garden table to hear our fate.

And she offer us tenancy!

OMG! We could hardly believe our ears! 

We had a home!

It was that evening when we told Alix the good news that she let slip that the new owner had gushed over the white wine at how impressed she was with My Gorgeous Man… and that ‘He had made smoothie with her!’   Knowing that there wasn’t a nutri-bullet in sight, we came to the conclusion that it was a German saying that had got a bit mixed up in translation.  But it was My Gorgeous Man that had saved our asses and secured us a home.  He had been able to overcome his own upset and anxiety to try and make a shitty situation better.  There’s a lesson in there for all of us. 

That’s my MGM.  Damn, this man is my hero.

And we had a home again!

For the next 6 months!

And we definitely had a home if we were willing to move into the casita in 3 days time when the sale paperwork was completed. 

The Casita! Our third home in 4 months!
The Casita! Our third home in 4 months!

We were saved in one breath and pushed out of our dream home earlier than expected, in the next.

I guess it was the Universe’s version of ripping off the ‘moving house plaster’ and just making it all happen straight away.

I had to drop all my judgements and personal issues… and move into gratitude.

I hugged her tight… looked her in the eye and thanked her from the bottom of my heart.  

It was only then that I began to see our similarities… the non conformist, creative and empath… living life in the moment and just … going for it!  The Universe was up to its magical tricks again!

Love is the greatest healer of all.
Love Heals…

The next couple of days were a bit of a blur… we started tidying up and packing but with no contract or anything officially confirmed we were running on pure good faith.

It was now time to pull our energy back and emotionally leave the house… and pack up my crystals. 

Monday 2nd April dawned.  It was THE day.  The day for the sale to finalise and for Alix to leave for her new life in Palma… and for us to move into the casita.

And that’s what I’ll share in my next instalment… because we simply couldn’t have made up the hysterical dramas of our third Moving Day.

Here’s to living the dream…

Love,

 

 

 

PS.  If you come on my Channelling Love Retreat in June or my collaborative Yoga & Meditation Retreat with Anya in September 2018, then you’ll drive right past the Casita and Cortijo!  I wonder if we’ll still be living there by then!

And if your body is calling out for yoga & healing meditation in the sun… check out my new September retreat… I’m very excited indeed!  Anya is an amazing yoga teacher and we’ll be combining the physical practice of Vinyasa Flow & Yin Yoga with healing meditations to take you further into your heart and truth… as well as the delights of chilling, relaxing and enjoying the bliss of staying in a gorgeously renovated cortijo up in the mountains… and not forgetting the nutritious delicious delights from our personal in-house chef!
9th – 15th September 2018

Only 547 Euros Early Bird price till 1st June!
Click on the image for further information and booking link 🙂

Yoga & Meditation Retreat with myself and Anya.
Yoga & Meditation Retreat with myself and Anya.

What the F*ck just Happened – Part 2

FFS Universe… you move us in to our new dream home… let us fall in love with it, settle in and believe we’re starting a positive new Spanish chapter… and then you turf us out just weeks later.  Just WTF is going on?

After a really shitty January and February (as shared in my last blog) where I was questioning everything and struggling with my mindset and a deep physical and emotional fatigue… we really thought our new home heralded a brand new beginning on all levels.

We had moved in at the end of February… and within a week I was flying back to Scotland on pure adrenaline to share a mini tour of Channelling Love Circles that had been arranged for quite a while.  It was amazing, exhausting and wonderful to share the healing circles.

Channelling Love Circles in Peebles and Dundee... and the lovely Philip Martin who is my right hand man for my new Spanish Retreats!
Channelling Love Circles in Peebles and Dundee… and the lovely Philip Martin who is my right hand man for my new Spanish Retreats!

 

It was especially wonderful to spend time with my bestie Jenny who nursed me through a migraine, let me snore on her sofa, drove me to and from the Dundee Channelling Circles, cried with me over chick flicks and let me fall in love with Oscar, her new dalmation puppy.

 

Besties and puppy Oscar!
Besties and puppy Oscar!

But the truth is that I landed back home in Spain in even more of a heap… and I only had a few days to rest, pull myself together and prepare for hosting March’s Spanish Retreat… which had also been arranged for months.

I really had over scheduled myself and I was struggling physically and emotionally to keep going… but being in the new house, was part of what helped me keep going… and also having my other bestie Jo, staying with us to help with the retreat, was also a massive boost… plus the ever present strength of my MGM.  I was one very lucky but very knackered wuwu Goddess.

The retreat was magical… the Star Beings came through as always with their huge force of love, healing and transformation and it was humbling to see the shifts that the women moved through.

I LOVE my work. 

And I LOVE holding these retreats

The emails I’ve since received from 2 of the women, remind me why I do what I do… and why I keep doing what I do.

Blessed by a rainbow appearing right behind us just as we finished creating a healing earth mandala on the last day of the retreat!
Blessed by a rainbow appearing right behind us just as we finished creating a healing earth mandala on the last day of the retreat!

Channelling Love, helps heal lives.

But in the back of my mind I kept saying…. “I’ll be able to rest up after the retreat finishes,”…. “I’ll be able to lie on the sofa in that lovely comfy living room… enjoy the gardens… enjoy the views… sit out on the terrace with a cuppa… relax…. recover… focus on me for a bit…. truly land, settle and set down my roots in the cortijo’s lovely energy”

Turned out that I couldn’t and wouldn’t. 

In the days that followed the retreat, a whole new level of emotional turmoil unfolded.

We had always known that the dream cortijo we had moved into was for sale.  It had been up for sale for at least 7 years and the general consensus was that it wasn’t going to budge.  So we felt pretty secure.

The owner was an amazing, retired, English, eccentric soul.  She had lived in Spain for many, many years, become a Sufi, brought up her children alone in the Cortijo and she had been one of the first pioneer expats to settle in the area.  She lived the high life in her early years, turned her back on it, survived the struggles, faced her demons and moved through the tough times… and now being of the age where mortality looms and a great big property becomes a burden, she was looking to secure her future through selling her land, the cortijo and the small casita she lived in next door.  We had became very, very fond of her very quickly.

Her life stories were the stuff that books are made of.

So when there was a flurry of house viewings within our first 2 weeks, we were a bit shocked to say the least.

And on the third week after our arrival, when one of the viewers, charged across the garden to shake our hand while we sat outside with Sir Maxelot … it was like our home had been violated and both My Gorgeous Man and I felt our stomachs drop.  This was different.  When we later spied her through our kitchen window, throwing her arms around our landlady and squealing with delight… we knew our gorgeous new home had been sold.  And we were proved right.

A stunning sunset over our dream cortijo...
A stunning sunset over our dream cortijo…

The next day we received the call from Alix, asking to meet for a coffee and to talk about our situation.  She brought muffins with her… not a good sign we thought.  In all honesty, they were as tough as old boots… just as she had wryly warned us.  But not wanting to lose our home we chewed patiently on them with a polite smile.  At least she hadn’t baked them.

She will never know how much we wanted to be able to make her a better offer… but as we are still living our life on a wing and a prayer, we could only share our congratulations and hugs for her success and cry silently on the inside for our own loss.

The next day, we signed the legal document serving us 8 weeks notice.  We had till 20th May to find a new home.

I decided that I couldn’t keep up the positive and uplifting presence on social media and within my free Facebook group The HEART of HEALING, so I shared a livestream there saying that I needed some space… and then went dark.  It was a huge relief to step back.

It turned out that the new owner was on a mission to move and she wanted in by the 2nd April.  That gave Alix just over a week to pack up her family home of 30 years and leave.  And she agreed to it.  It was easier to just get on with it.

She was however, genuinely feeling very uncomfortable about our situation so we asked her if she thought there was a chance that the new owner would like us as tenants in the casita.  Alix said there might be.  But we received a flat, in person ‘No’ when the new owner unexpectedly turned up on our doorstep the next day…  and our hearts sank as the realisation hit that we would be house hunting in the run up to the crazy summer months of very profitable short term holiday lets.

So there I was, struggling through what I thought was exhaustion with the chronic symptoms of adrenal fatigue… and the prospect of now not having any down time but instead having to find the energy to find a new home… AND move again.

To add to the mix, My Gorgeous Man flew off to Hong Kong the next day.  Yup, his long planned trip to keep his Hong Kong residency valid couldn’t have come at a worse time.  But it couldn’t be avoided either and off he went.

With just me and Sir Maxelot at home, I crashed.  I totally crashed.  I no longer had to keep going for social media… I no longer had to keep going for MGM… I just had to keep going enough to let Sir Maxelot out for his mooches, feeds, cuddles and more mooches.  Turned out I was also crap at lighting the wood burning stove… but very good at lying on the sofa watching multiple episodes of Vera from under a thick blanket.  There’s nothing like a bit of light hearted British, crime drama to soothe the soul.

Sir Maxelot leading the way in crashing out.
Sir Maxelot leading the way in crashing out.

I did however manage to reach out to a couple of agents and ask every frikking person I’d ever come across here, if they knew of anywhere we could rent.  But there was nothing.  This is a very special area and as such there is a massive influx of people over the summer months coming to enjoy the mountains for their holidays.  And that leaves no room for long term rentals.

We were f*cked.

Watch out for Parts 3 & 4 of “What the F*ck just Happened…”
I’ll be sharing them over the next few days.  You won’t believe it…

Love,

 

 

 

PS…
Amazingly through all of this, there was an underlying flow to a new Spanish Retreat coming to life… a fully immersive weekend with me staying onsite with the group  in a renovated Cortijo, with morning yoga classes, the lovely Philip Martin from Dundee’s Natural Balance Therapy Centre (see above!) offering holistic therapies, an in-house personal chef AND 2 channellings a day!

Only 3 places remaining for 15th – 18th June 2018!

The Universe moves in mysterious ways… as one door closes… so another opens.

Click HERE to find out more!

Sunrise over the Retreat Mountains.
Sunrise over the Retreat Mountains.

 

 

What the F*ck just Happened?

A little piece of heaven on earth.

One minute we were flying high on the euphoria of New Year and the next minute it was March and  I’d been pulled through a thick, thorny hedge backwards,  run over by a multitude of tractors… done at least 10 rounds with Mike Tyson and hit the proverbial brick wall.  That’s the truth.  That’s how Spring landed with me in Spain.

So what happened?  The answer is simple.  I was surviving the shifts of my own exhaustion and self sabotage.

It was somewhere towards the middle of January when I realised that I was actually very, very tired and not actually doing that well.  I LOVE my work as a channel and healer  And I LOVE living in Spain.  But in the spirit of Namaste This sharing only the ‘real deal’… the pressure of being a self employed one woman show and moving into a new life, in a new country and settling into the powerful energy of this land, had taken its toll.

By me baring my soul to you today, I guess I’m burning away the illusions that so many people have around what real life and ‘success’ as a light leader actually looks like… just as the Star Beings burn away the illusions that we live within which keep us out of our hearts, power and truth.

The biggest challenge over the last couple of months has actually been my own mindset… and I’ll be the first one to raise my hand and admit it.

The thing with being self employed with no back up plan, is that it’s all down to you.  And being self employed with a wuwu gift that isn’t necessarily on ‘Joe Bloggs’ list of life’s essentials… makes it even harder.  Generally people will choose their nights out on the town, Starbucks and new shoes, over their own emotional and spiritual well being.

So you have to work all the harder to be visible… to share your wares… to show up so people can connect with you and hear your message…

and consistently radiate your message…
and consistently radiate your message…
and consistently radiate your message…
and consistently radiate your message…
and learn about funnels…
learn the tech of funnels….
build a frikking funnel…
and consistently radiate your message…
and learn about social media and the ever changing challenge of Facebook algorithms…
and consistently radiate your message…
and create attractive ways for people to enjoy your ‘way out there’ and seemingly impossible healing to prove that you’re not making it all up and that they would really benefit from receiving it.
And then keep on showing up…
and showing up…
and showing up…
and showing up…
even when you feel you can’t show up anymore and have no more ideas on how to even show up anymore…
and then show up again.

 

My Gorgeous Man has always said that ‘Being Different & Doing it Differently’ was never going to be easy… because what I do, isn’t being ‘done’ anywhere else or by anyone else.  So effectively, I feel like I’ve been knocking on doors and cold selling myself and the Star Beings to the world, non stop for the last 3 years… and on top of that, actually doing all the deep channelling work for the beautiful souls who have discovered the power and benefits of Channelling Love. 

The ironic thing is that in December I shared an in-person channelling for 2 amazing souls who are world famous channels themselves and after they had immersed in the vibrational presence of the Star Beings they said that I was one the most genuine and powerful channels they’d ever met and experienced.  Pia received an instantaneous healing on her damaged wrist and Cullen’s trusted pocket watch stopped at the time the Star Beings came through.

Testimonial from PIa & Cullen
Testimonial Love

It’s truly amazing to receive the feedback and to be a unique channel… but it’s everything else around my innate gift, that has been such a drain and challenge.

It’s all taken a MAHOOOSIVE amount of energy, trust, will power, determination, downright stubbornness and an inexplicable belief in the Star Beings… along with a weird sense of not actually knowing how to give up… even through all my rallying, and self indulgent tears. 

The Star Beings never give up though… they always show up.  They chose me all those years ago.  I didn’t go looking for them…  I didn’t really even know what channelling was until I went to live in Brazil and ironically ended up as a psychic healer in a channelling circle.  I didn’t go on a course to learn how to do this… and I still don’t ‘know’ how I actually do it.

But I do know why. 

It’s to bring a higher vibration and multi-dimensional healing and awakening to all the souls who want to shift the shit out of their 3D life.  It’s my purpose.

But over the past couple of months… I have to admit that I’ve ‘given up’ every frikking day.  I’ve sobbed, hiccuped, stifled more sobs, taken deep breaths and sobbed some more… and said I can’t go on.  I’ve rallied against the injustices of trying to make a basic living doing something I love, while corporate crooks swim in their pools of cash.  I’ve rallied against all the fluffy, superficial, spiritual flakes that seem to be able to bring in the bucks and pay their bills… while I’ve not managed to make ends meet.  I’ve felt sick at the thought of livestreaming.  I’ve dreaded going onto Facebook to remain positive and uplifting, while being faced with everyone else who is apparently ‘making it’… when all I’ve wanted to do is just crawl into a quiet corner and lick my self pitying wounds.  I’ve wished I’d never stopped serving chicken and beef at 29,000 ft.  I’ve wished My Gorgeous Man’s international company hadn’t restructured and made his role redundant.  Oh how I’ve wished so many times that I could just give up.

But without fail… every single time I’ve Given Up in my head… there’s still been a whiff of a hopeful flicker in my heart and in swoops the Universe dangling another carrot in front of me.  It may have been as little as someone Liking or Loving a post on my Facebook business page… or messaging me to say thank you… but these seemingly little things are worth more than gold bullion and a secret stash of Bitcoins to me… because it’s the proof that I am actually making a difference to people’s lives after all.  The message is getting through.

Now don’t get me wrong… living in Spain, while diving into the depths of self sabotage and lack, has been an absolute life saver.  Seeing the sun shining out of a clear blue sky… looking out over stunning mountain views… finding a great yoga class… meeting new friends and detaching from conditioned and controlled living.  All of this and more, has absolutely supported me in keeping on keeping on.

My Gorgeous Man and our beloved Sir Maxelot.
My Gorgeous Man and our beloved Sir Maxelot.

And I am doubly blessed, as I have the awesomeness of My Gorgeous Man and our beloved Sir Maxelot.  They have, without a doubt, saved my sanity… and in reality it’s probably pushed theirs to the edge.  MGM seriously deserves worldwide acclaim and recognition for his huge bear hugs, his belief in me, his patience, his gorgeous hunky broad shoulders, his gift in building roaring fires on cold nights, his unending patience with my ability to create a tech disaster from simply pressing one single key on my laptop, his generosity in taking care of the mundane and in staying strong when my Big Brave Goddess Pants just fell right down round my ankles.

When we drove from Scotland to our new home in Spain at the end of November 2017, we started out in an outwardly cute little holiday cortijo… with a secure garden for our unsociable rescue greyhound.  It was owned by an open hearted landlady who brought us her homegrown fruit and homemade jams and we had that stunning view of the mountain.  But as the weeks rolled on, the cracks appeared as we continued to live out of suitcases… had to create a one way system around the tiny living area…were seriously challenged with the random electricity black outs if we used 2 rings on the cooker and dared to have a light on in the living room… the occasional ‘Sh*t!  There’s no water!’ shut offs… a chimney that smoked us out when the wind got up (it gets very windy up here in the mountains!)… and an internet connection that simply didn’t support working on line. 

The cute little cortijo that felt smaller than its gorgeous swimming pool.
Our first Spanish Cortijo!

The pressure just built up and up. My channellings had to be done in one spot in the garden where my mobile could generally hold a strong enough signal for livestreams… and I found it increasingly hard to fully detach because my ego- mind would torment me from the sidelines whispering… “Open your eyes and check the connection!”  I had to create my ‘sacred office’ space, with my tripod, phone, laptop, candle,  Palo Santo Holy wood… blankets, hot water bottles, fairy lights, cup of tea and toast, water, music, headphones… in fact my whole ‘Goddess Cave” set up had to be built every time.  And I had to pray that the neighbour’s noisy dog wouldn’t bark… the landlord’s husband wouldn’t rev up his super loud chainsaw… or the other neighbour wouldn’t leave his car engine running.

Channelling Love's Garden Office.
My Garden Office!

But not once have the Star Beings let me down.  Every time I wobbled… they’ve come through stronger and more definitively than before… and reminded me of my LOVE of what I do… and also of the incredible healing that comes through them for others.

Looking back on it… I can almost laugh, because it doesn’t sound that bad… and the garden office was rather pretty… but everything just felt a massive pressure all round.

But the Universe had a plan.  And it was a plan that would scream YES to our hearts and freak the heck out of our heads… again. 

We were told we would have to leave our Cortijo at the end of March. 

Now this filled us with both relief at the thought of a new home and yet the dread of trying to find a long term rental in an area that is generally geared towards expensive short term summer lets.

Long story short.  The Universe brought us a fabulous home through synchronistic meetings and new found friends.  We originally discounted it, as it was beyond the Star Being’s present income, yet we were weirdly compelled to go and see it anyway, making the excuse that it would be good to see how much more of a house you got for your hard earned bucks.   

By surrendering into trust you disempower the normal beliefs around life's challenges, and empower yourself through Love.
Words from the Star Beings of Channelling Love.

Well, another long story short… our hearts were ‘sold’ at the garden gate and our minds were made up one step in through the front door.  Without the other knowing, we had both silently resolved to somehow make it work.  It was a mutual F*ck It moment and another leap of faith. 

We both believed and trusted that it was meant to be and so…. we signed the lease.

And on Sunday 25th February 2018, we moved in… and we truly feel as if we’ve come home.  We have finally landed and we have… wait for it…. unpacked.  And I have an office space again!   YAY!

Our New Home!
Our New Home!

Admittedly, we crashed emotionally and felt wiped out… but oh so warm and fuzzy on the inside.  We started to release the stress we’d been holding… and we allowed ourselves to admit that our first couple of months in Spain had been a bit of a ride to say the least. 

We kept looking at each other saying “I can’t believe we’re here!”
and
“I love this house!”
and
“OMG… we’ve done it!  We’ve frikking done it!”

Moving into our new home, has also started to shift a lot of the ‘shite’ I have been drowning myself in.  Moving house isn’t just about packing up and then unpacking somewhere else… it’s a hugely underestimated energetic and emotional shift.  I even shared a livestream on how to ground your energy … which was inspired by our own need to land and ground our presence into our new home.

I’m now able to see the good stuff over the challenges… I have space to relax… I can work properly again and get back to sharing Channelling Love Webinars… and I have so many ideas for my YouTube channel now that we have a real, grown up internet connection again.  My Gorgeous Man is no longer dodging the random bullets fired out from emotional meltdowns.  He can finally take his flack jacket off.

So as I write this… I’m actually in a coveted aisle seat on a Ryanair flight after returning to Scotland for a whirlwind week of Channelling Love Circles and family visits.  It broke my heart to leave our new home so soon after moving in… but my God my heart is bursting as every minute flies me closer to being reunited with MGM, our grumpy dog… and our new home.

This is where our new life really feels like it’s beginning. And I am publicly declaring to myself and all who read my blog… that my self sabotaging patterns of lack are being laid to rest.  I am going to walk my talk and do the inner work needed so that our little family can thrive in this beautiful world… thrive in our new home… thrive in joy and abundance… and thrive in peace.  No longer will I be controlled by the programming and conditioning born of lack and fear.

Words from the Star Beings of Channelling Love - "Your reality is the one you choose to align with."
Words from the Star Beings of Channelling Love.

Join me next time as I share the real deal stories from behind the scenes of my channelling week in Scotland… and the latest from our new home… and my exciting expansion into creating bespoke Spanish Retreats for coaches, light leaders, healers and heart-led tribes.

Love,

 

 

 

 

PS.  Join my HEART of HEALING Facebook group and enjoy the grounding healing I shared after we moved into our new home!

Come and join me in The HEART of HEALING!
Just click on the image!

Cava, Smokehoods and the Realities behind Living the Dream

Woodpiles, mineral water and Spanish Cava... living the Alpujarra dream!

Is it inappropriate to write my first blog of 2018 under the influence of a cheap bottle of Spanish Cava?  Some may take a sharp intake of breath and judge me… but I hope some of you will just laugh and say… “Way to go Sally” and join me on the journey of living life from the heart and being totally in my truth.

Blogger at work with a glass of obligatory New Year bubbles and a wrap against the chilly mountain air.
It’s me! Blogging… with bubbles… and a warm fluffy wrap.

Today is the 1st of January 2108… and I’m filled with an overwhelming sense of well being (suitably enhanced by bubbles of course) but backed up by a deep sense of knowing that despite the crazy ride of our first 4 weeks in Spain… we absolutely have done the right thing… and that everything is going to be ok. 

We are now meeting our living expenses… we can feel the warm sunshine on our faces… we can breathe in the fresh air… we can eat organic local produce… we can be in awe of the ever changing view of the mountains…. we can freeze our asses off at night but know that it’s only for a couple of months over winter… we can look up at the incredible beauty of the bright stars in the night sky with no light pollution… and we can perfect the art of patience while buffering on a VERY slow wifi internet connection.  And I mean… torturously

S   L   O   W.

But what does this new life in Spain actually look like?

Well… My Gorgeous Man is now lovingly nicknamed  “UgMan”… because MGM is chief wood gatherer, water collector and fire builder.  And he’s very, very good at it.  If ever you need your fire lit, so to speak, then he’s the real deal.  We have roaring warmth, romantic atmospheres and lots of flexing muscles as the wood is gathered by the wheelbarrow load from Paco’s down the road.

We also collect and bottle natural mineral water from the local Lanjarón mountain springs… and our life is no longer regulated by a central heating thermostat or a water filter jug to try and save us from the perils of fluoride.

And we love it.

Seriously… life has totally transformed and we already know we can never go back into the fray of modern, city life.

Wood pile with a view onto the Orgiva mountains.
Wood with a view…

I have to admit that I love accompanying MGM to go buy our wood.  The views are stunning and it’s natural eco-living for beginners.  There’s a mahoosive pile of logs… and Paco and MGM just fill up the boot of our ever reliable but totally ‘spot the newbie in town’ UK plated estate car and hey presto, you have heating for the next week or so. 

Paco doesn’t speak English… but there is an unspoken camaraderie through smiles and mutually convenient transactions… and there’s always Google translate for when Spanglish mixed with my Portuguese fails!

Our favourite water filling station in Lanjaron
UgMan bring water…

I also love going to collect our drinking water, which comes straight off the mountain.  Lanjarón (the next village along) is renowned for the healing properties of it’s local springs and throughout the village there are different fountains to choose from. 

Some of the springs say ‘Aqua Potable’… and these are the ones to avoid as the water has been treated.  But all the others are pure, natural mineral water.  If you’re brave enough to brave the single dirt track to get up to the back of Lanjarón there’s an especially famous spring, which is where the water for my Spanish Retreats is collected from.  This water is specifically good for kidney function.  It also tends have a bit of a queue.  But we love the taste and ease of the spring just as you enter Lanjarón from the Orgiva side, that’s got easy parking… no queues… and a rather quaint bar nearby… with more stunning views, beer on tap… and tapas.  Multi tasking is key, don’t you know.

But let’s step out of the eco-romance of our new life in Spain, and keep it real.

WE ALSO NEEDED SMOKE HOODS!

We sooo needed smoke hoods for when the mountain winds got up and our homely, romantic fire became a downright health hazard…. because instead of all the smoke going up the chimney, it blew straight out into our small living area.   It was WAY worse than going through the smoke chamber during my Hot Hostie days of annual airline safety checks… because this was real smoke… and there was no escape.  But least there wasn’t a toilet fire drill to complete.  There’s always an upside.  And we have Cava in the fridge too.

Seriously. 

We had nights where we were literally smoked out.  We tried to ignore it for a while… we tried to laugh it off… and we even tried to pretend it wasn’t  happening. We kept going out into the garden for gulps of fresh air… we opened windows to create a through breeze that just ended up bringing what smoke had gone up the chimney, out round the house and back in again through the window… but the reality was, no matter how cold it was… having the fire burning, just wasn’t worth it. 

So there were a good few nights in December where we’ve had to go without the warmth of a fire, and instead wrap ourselves up in thick blankets and fill up our hot water bottles.

We then admitted defeat and went in search of a portable gas heater.

Now, you would think that buying a portable gas heater would be easy.  Simples.  Go to shop.  Point at heater.  Get credit card out.  Buy.

Can you hear me laughing??!   Ooooh no!  Not so easy!

We sourced one at a local hardware store in Orgiva.  We Pointed.  Went to the cash register… and then found the rubber tubing, tube clips and gas regulator added into the bill.  Didn’t expect that… but essential all the same!  When I asked via Google Translate about where to buy the actual gas bottle…. the woman happily went into a stream of fast Spanish and all I picked up was “BP garage.” 

Thinking we had it sussed, I nodded and smiled and as MGM and I were gathering up our new heating system to take out to the car… a great big booming, very English voice appeared from behind us.

“Did you understand that?”

“Er, yes I think so!  We can get the gas bottles at the BP garage.”

“Well, you can get the bottles refilled at the garage but you have to rent and draw up a contract with the Gas Bottle Man to get the bottles in the first place.”

“Ah.  Ok.  Totally didn’t understand that then!  Thank you!”  There are advantages to living in an area with expats also striving to live the dream.

All wrapped up and cozy against the cold!
It was a cold run up to Christmas!

So it turned out that you have to find the infamous Gas Bottle Man and his lorry, which is generally found around somewhere at sometime.  He draws up a contract with you to lease his gas bottles, which you can then exchange back with him for full ones… or go to the BP garage. 

Except nobody knew where the Gas Bottle Man was right then.  But he would be around near the hardware store the next morning at about 10am…ish.  Well, we didn’t want to wait… it was cold at night and we had a new gas heater that needed christening. 

So we drove up to the BP garage on the other side of town (all 5 minutes away) and tried to blag it.  We asked to buy a gas bottle.  Except they wouldn’t sell us one, because we didn’t have one.  But… it turned out that they had the mobile number of the Gas Bottle Man… so our friendly BP man phoned him to find out where he was… and then tried to tell us in Spanish. 

And I soooooo didn’t understand.  I felt such a numpty as I just couldn’t catch what he was saying.  Only one word stuck out…. hospital.  The rest was a blur but at least we had a starting point… and off we went with huge smiles of gratitude and waves of ‘Thank God, we’re getting somewhere.’

And Hey Presto…. we found the Gas Bottle Man… or I should say, we found his lorry parked up behind the 24 hour emergency health clinic.  He appeared after a few very long minutes of us loitering awkwardly on the street… and then more fun began. 

Talk about feeling like a fish out of water.  He wanted our address so that he could draw up a contract, so that he could lease us 2 gas bottles. 

My spookywuwu senses knew he was internally saying “Oh My God… save me from these gringos…”

When we showed him our rental address (which luckily MGM had on his phone)… it didn’t have a house number.  Our address is basically… “One of Rosa’s rental houses, at the back of Orgiva.”  And neither of us have a Spanish NIE number yet… we looked like two, very dodgy gringos taking the piss. 

It was stalemate.

We laughed, smiled… tried google translate to say that we’ll be staying in the area longterm and that we were actually very nice people indeed… and that he could trust us… grovel, grovel, grovel… in Spanglish.  But, without that numbered address or NIE… it was still a deffo No-No.

Sometimes we just have to get over ourselves and enjoy this crazy journey called life!
Laugh… and the world laughs with you!

We had a nice new heater but… nothing to heat it with.

Then something shifted… and all of a sudden he sold us two gas bottles instead of leasing them.   And gave us a lesson filled with wry laughter and wide smiles in how to attach the regulator and make all the working components actually work.  Thank you Gas Bottle Angels!

We now had heating!  YAY!  

We got home feeling very pleased with ourselves.   And then our egos were very quickly put to rest when it took no less than  5frikkinghundred attempts at sparking the lighter… with the air turning putrid blue from all the swearing… to actually get it going.  

But OMG… it was so worth it.
We had heating without acrid, eye stinging smoke!

It’s the basics and small stuff that really make all the difference.

Now, one of the other major challenges we’ve faced is our piss poor internet connectivity.  God dammit, I really miss our superduper fast, hyper-optic broadband!  This was THE major concern about moving down here… but ever ahead of the human game, the Universe has already started sorting that out… because we’ve unexpectedly been served notice and now have to leave our new found home by 27th March…

Instead of freaking out… we’re taking it as a mahoosive blessing and a means to find that perfect home where we can get a really strong phone signal… and I can continue to share my Channelling Love work without stressing about livestreams conking out…. or needing the patience of an incredibly saintly angel for uploading videos et all.

Mind you… a powerful,  angel was right by my side on the day that I was being interviewed by Fi Munro of Light, Love and Mermaid Tails.  Fi is an inspirational woman, she won Health Blogger of the year 2017 and is a stage 4 ovarian cancer warrior bringing forward her own unique, positive, all encompassing approach to her journey with cancer.   She’s amazing… and you can watch the full interview below!

So… despite knowing that it is notoriously difficult to find longterm affordable rentals with summer approaching…  we are not falling into the black hole of…. “Oh my God, we’re homeless again.” 

Because, like I said at the beginning… I know all will be well.
The Universe has got our backs.
And a bottle of Cava is only €2.69 on offer. 

On my next instalment of Namaste This, I’ll be sharing the story of a wild boar crossing, getting lost in torrential rain in the middle of the night on the way back from Malaga airport… and Sir Maxelot’s unfortunate emergency visit to the Spanish vets and subsequent synchronicity of meeting an animal healer. 

Or…  I could just open another bottle of bubbles and see which of the many stories from the past few weeks wants to come out first!  There’s a lot of them!

Wishing you all a very Happy New Year and may 2018 be the year that YOU follow your heart to make your dreams come true.

Love,

 

 

 

PS.  Go grab a cuppa or a bottle (!)  and enjoy the interview with Fi Munro as I share my journey into Channelling Love!

 

Crisps, Mountains and Happy Spanish Landings.

Finally parking up the car...

The Arrival

As I write this… I am living proof that we arrived, amazingly in one piece, at our new home in Spain.  My silence here over the past couple of weeks is because we promptly slept and drank and ate and slept some more.  Not even my laptop had the usual pull of a heroin fix… not that I know what a heroin fix feels like… but you get my drift.  We were absolutely frazzled, fried and wiped out emotionally, mentally and physically.

But here’s what happened before we landed.

We’d left the sanctuary of our friends in Mid-Pyrenean France with heavy hearts.  There was a part of me in denial, which believed we’d be arriving in Spain that afternoon… but the reality was, Orgiva was another 2 days drive away.  A time travel, ‘Dr Who tardis type machine thing’ would have been very, very welcome that morning.

But driving was the only option… so drive we did.

I’ve shared enough driving stories over my last few posts and to be honest, there were no real dramas on these last two sectors. Thank God.

Welcome to Spain!
Welcome to España!

So this is what the Spanish border looked like as we drove across the line …. and here’s how shattered and knackered we were by the time we reached our overnight pitstop near Valencia.  

We’d been on the road for almost 8 hours and I was crabby beyond crabby… My Gorgeous Man had totally glazed over with motorway tunnel vision… and we had a very fed-up and knackered dog in the boot.

There was only one choice… a great big, motorway service station creative crisp picnic in our budget Ibis bunk beds.

Loving Living the Ibis Dream!
Loving Living the Ibis Dream!

Max took up most of the floor… because the room really was that small.  MGM took the double bed… because Sir Maxelot would no doubt try to get in beside him later in the night… and MGM is his favourite.  And I had the bliss of the top bunk all to myself.  OMG… it was so comfy! 

It was most definitely time for a great big, comfort eating pig out and some much needed uplifting, healing, Strictly Come Dancing on i-player.  We could almost have still been in Edinburgh… not.

None of us slept that well… the room was a boiling hot, stuffy sauna and there was an annoying security bolt to prevent the window from properly opening… it drives me mad that we’re not credited with the responsibility of opening a window these days… but we did feel a whole lot better than we had the night before.   

Better enough to even pull some Fairy cards before setting off on our last day on the road.

A card for Max… a card for MGM… and a card for Me!

Fairy oracle cards for sharing our magical messages.
Faerie cards for weary travellers…

Max – Miracle Healing 
He’d made friends with another non-greyhound dog!  Bliddy miracle!

MGM – Laughter
After a dismal couple of years in Scotland where not even funny jokes were funny… a life filled with more fun, joy and laughter was awaiting in Spain!

Me – Positive Expectations Woohoo!!  Keep visions strong, high and clear for the ‘bestest’ most wonderful of outcomes!  I really felt this was for My work and Channelling Love’s Spanish Retreats in 2018!

So with the fairies at our back we all dragged our weary asses back into the car. 

Only 5 hours to go!

And boy… did those 5 hours…… D  R   A    A    A    A     G.

Not much to share on that front either!

But after about 4 hours, as we arrived on the edge of the Sierra Nevada,  my dream of living up in snow capped mountains suddenly became a real, reality.

My heart soared as the views unfolded before us. I got butterflies in my stomach… and… OMG… we really were moving to the Alpujarras!

It was stunning to see the mountains… with their sprinkling of snow and their immense size and ancient earth wisdom, looming ever closer towards us.

The Spanish Sierra Nevada
The Spanish Sierra Nevada…

We had a quick pee pitstop for Max and I followed the urge to get on Livestream… and found myself going all ‘gushy & gratitudey’ …  I mean… We Were Almost There! 

Sir Maxelot had had enough though and he upstaged my gushing with his grumps…. but WE WERE ALMOST THERE!

Then we arrived on the outskirts of Granada…. (we passed a great big shopping centre and made mental notes to explore it in the months to come!)… not too long after that, we drove through the village of Lanjaron where My Gorgeous Man and I had stayed in June and this whole new life had been born… then 9.3km further down the stunning windy mountain road we arrived in Orgiva… over the narrow bridge… stopped at the traffic lights… went up past the church… onto the cobbled road into the town square… past Rogelio’s (the agent who found us our new home)… and past the bakery with the frozen lattes to die for… past Baraka with the hummus and carrot cake to die for…. turning off onto a single concrete track out the other side of town… we crawled past the dead end sign and around the blind corner… past the gated house with 6 dogs peering out at the strange foreign car with a box on the roof and a strange, leggy creature in the boot… past the terraces of olives trees looking out onto the mountain opposite…and finally… we pulled up at our entrance gate.

I jumped out to slide back the entrance gate to the group of private, secluded cortijos… past more orange trees… past more olive trees… past yet more orange trees and around a couple of very tight bends and up steep inclines…. and we finally pulled up and parked in front of our new home.

Our new home!
Our new home!

WE HAD ARRIVED!!!

It was all a bit surreal…. and I felt like everything moved into slow motion.

Our dear friend Jo was waiting for us and she appeared like an angel out of the front door all radiant and smiling… and welcoming us home with open arms and a wonderful hand made, heart shaped sign on the door! 

And after lots and lots of hugs all round… it was definitely bubbles o’clock.

After a week’s worth of travelling, miracles, grumps, bumps, trust and everything else we’d been through in the run up to our new life in Spain…  we had finally made it.

Happy Landings in our new Spanish Home!
We made it!!

In a weird way… I could hardly believe it.

It didn’t seem real… and then in the same moment, massive waves of

OH MY GOD….WE HAD DONE IT!

WE HAD MOVED TO SPAIN!

OMG… We really HAD done it!!

Another bottle of bubbles was very quickly guzzled… sun drenched photos were taken under the olive and orange trees in our garden… and Sir Maxelot settled right into his new domain as if he’d never lived anywhere else.

Sir Maxelot immediately at home in his new garden!
Sir Maxelot at home in his new garden!

Shellshocked and more than a little bit pished because the booze went straight to our frazzled heads, we collapsed onto the sofa and let the reality sink in.

Well done my handsome MGM. 

You drove your family all 1800 miles to a whole new life in Southern Spain.  Well done Sir Maxelot for trusting us and coping so well with the journey.  And well done me… for… never giving up on the dream… and making us all move in the first place!

Over my next instalments I will be sharing the realities of our first few weeks in The Alpujarras… which involved MGM having to return to Scotland for family reasons… learning that windy days actually mean donning a smoke hood… learning where the strongest phone signal is in the garden… channelling challenges… a wild boar crossing… an emergency run to a vet in Spanglish… new found soul friends… wood and water runs… adjusting to mountain energies… being told that we’d have to move out of our new home by the end of March (yup)…. and most definitely accepting the fact that I needed more sleeeeeeeeep.

There’s never a dull moment when you follow your heart…

Love,

 

 

 

 

PS.
Did you know that gratitude is one of the quickest ways to turn your life around?  Being consciously grateful for what you already have in your life, shifts your energy out of lack and into abundance… which makes it a whole lot easier for the Universe to bring you the good stuff.

Try this exercise…
When you wake up… immediately write or say 5 things that you’re grateful for.  It can be as simple as the bed you’re in… the job you have… the breakfast that awaits… your friends etc

If you’re finding life a struggle… this may feel this is really difficult to start with… but the more you do it, the easier it becomes… the more you shift your energy… the more you realise you are blessed… and so the better life becomes… and the more the Universe confirms this by bringing more good stuff.

It’s a bit like dominoes… start the flow and it’ll pick up pace!

Don’t give up if you don’t feel like Wonder Woman or Super Man by day 2… keep going… really feel the emotion of what you’re grateful for… and keep going!  You’ll soon have a massive list of gratitude rather than just five forced starting points… and you’ll be feeling a whole lot better about yourself and your life!

And here’s my gushy gratitude as we approached THE ARRIVAL at our new home.

One Dented Car and Sir Maxelot’s Miracle

The Mid Pyrennees miracle setting...

You never know what’s round the corner… literally.  As I signed off on the last post… the sun was setting over the rolling hills of the Mid Pyrenees and we had about an hour of driving left to arrive with our friends near Brassac.

So what could possibly go wrong??

A sunset is beautiful no matter where you are...
French motorway sunset…

I put my laptop away as My Gorgeous Man turned off the motorway and started out on the country roads.  It was slow going after having been whizzing along at an illegal rate of knots with a couple of speed cameras flashing their disapproval at us. 

My inner rebel had secretly loved it.

It soon became very obvious that our headlights were hugely… not very bright at all.  We’d been very good European citizens and applied the very sticky headlamp stickers to our headlights so that our Right Hand drive car, now in a Left Hand drive country, didn’t blind any on-comers… but jeez… something else must have been up because we could hardly see a frikking thing. 

Putting the lights on full beam we crawled along the country roads, peering over the dashboard as if those extra centimetres would help… and we became more and more frustrated with the Google Be-atch who kept taking us past signs for Lauzerte… the first one said 10km…. then after 15 minutes… 9km… and then we had a full on WTF moment when the last sign we passed said 11km. 

If felt like we were going round in circles and we were rapidly losing our sense of humour.  It was made all the more frustrating because having spent a good few weeks with our friends a couple of years ago after we Left Hong Kong … we would actually have known where we were if we could just have seen where the heck we were going.

BANG!

Shit!

WTF?!?

Something had slammed into my side of the car… but all I’d seen was a fleeting shadow out the corner of my eye.

My Gorgeous Man and I were mortified and terrified into stunned silence

MGM… said “It’s ok… it’s got up and run off the road”….

I felt sick to my stomach and my heart began to break for whatever poor animal had somehow found the side of our car.  We hadn’t run it over, it had literally run out from the surrounding black and ‘bounced’ off the side.  Thank God we’d been going so slowly.

We’ve no idea whether it was a dog, fox or maybe even a small deer… but the impact was enough to make us stop… take a deep breath… and check out the car.  And try not to cry.  Whatever it was, had already disappeared back into the pitch black of the French countryside.

Where you share love, so you share healing.
Love is Healing…

I didn’t actually care two hoots about the car… as all I’d felt was the full shock and impact through my body.  How on earth  could it survive… and if it had got up and run off, surely it would be severely stunned, have internal bleeding, concussion and who knows what else.  My eyes filled with tears and my stomach churned.  I am a huge animal lover and abhor the pain, cruelty and suffering that comes at the hand of man… and yet, this was exactly what we had caused… albeit inadvertently.

MGM cautiously got out of the car to come round my side and see if there was any evidence of the impact. Thankfully there was no blood.  But there was a big dent in the wing…. and when I tried to open my door… it was jammed.  The dent was stopping the door from opening. 

Shit… that was a big impact. 
We were both shaky and very upset… but probably nothing compared to what that poor animal was feeling.

All I could do was send Reiki.  I didn’t want to feel into how the poor creature was… but I begged the angels to take care of it and if it was its time to pass, then please make it peaceful, quick and as pain free as possible… and surround it with comfort and LOVE.

My Gorgeous Man and I were so upset….

We started back driving in silence and crawled through the dark, having to fully handover trust to the Google Be-atch, to lead us to our friend’s home.  But the joy and excitement had been somewhat thwarted.

About a half hour later we came to the turn off and crawled even more slowly down the track to their gorgeous barn conversion.   We literally could have walked faster.

There's nothing quite as wonderful as being reunited with great friends after far too long a time!
Happy Friends!

And what a lovely welcome we received!
We were instantly uplifted and ….Damn it was great to see them again!  Huge hugs all round and massive glasses of wine were thrust into our hands as we all collapsed onto our respective sofas… with our respective dogs.

Now, admittedly there was a fair bit of tension in the air because of Sir Maxelot’s unpredictable and reactive history around other dogs… and sitting not far away from him was the massive gorgeousness of Tanzi, their 7 month old Ridgeback puppy… who was already almost the same size as Max.  And she was absolutely desperate to meet him.

With Max’s history of lashing out… we had to keep him on his muzzle and lead.  And as Sir Maxelot totally and obviously tried to blank Tanzi… and Tanzi pulled and whined and showed no signs of settling until she got to see her new ‘friend,’ we all tried to carry on our excited catch up conversations.

The wine helped hugely.

Dinner was soon ready and we thought it would be better to give Sir Maxelot some space and peace in our room with his own familiar bed and blankets while we all ate… and Tanzi could roam her home again.

About an hour later Scott went down to check on Max. 

And it was a sorry sight that greeted him. 
Our beloved Sir Maxelot had freaked out and destroyed about a third of his new memory foam bed… and it looked like he’d also peed on his blankets.

Our hearts went out to him.

We realised that he’d probably felt as if he was being abandoned again… and we felt sh*te.  His history as a rescued ex-racer with several unsuccessful attempts at re-homing, remained deep in his psyche and heart.  He’s such a sensitive soul.  So, seeing as we were so knackered and spaced out from the drive and dramas… we called it an early night and went to join Sir Maxelot and reassure him with all our hearts.

Max slept great that night.  On our bed.  He did a doggie starfish and stretched out his long, spindly  legs… while MGM and I clung onto the opposite edges of the bed and tried to sleep.  Having your dog on your bed leaves no room for romance in your relationship… but at that point we didn’t care.  Our little family was together… and we were half way to our new life in Spain.

The next morning we were very tired and achy from our contorted sleeping positions around Sir Maxelot… and we were admittedly anxious over how we were going to manage ‘the dog’ situation.

But… it turned out the Universe had it all figured out.

Long story short… we witnessed a miracle healing.

After an intense, nerve wracking up close meeting of much barking and canine behavioural boundary setting… Sir Maxelot and Tanzi settled into companionship. 

We couldn’t believe our eyes.

Our beloved Sir Maxelot sharing a window view with his latest fan... Tanzi.
The Miracle…

Tanzi followed Max around besottedly asking him to play… and Sir Maxelot, totally tolerated her.  So much so, off came his muzzle.  We were soooo happy, delighted, relieved.  It’s pretty stressful to have a reactive dog, as you are continually on high alert for potential encounters… even though you know the best way to help them is to drop your own fear and radiate calm, confidence and security.

But it was pure heaven for us to just him let go and witness a happy, muzzle free Sir Maxelot make himself quite at home.   And he scored a huge amount of extra delicious treats… and Tanzi’s leftovers.  Way to go Max!

What a gift.  A lot of the healing shift was down to our dear friends and their wonderful energy, trust and dog savvy experience.

THANK YOU! THANK YOU! THANK YOU!

But as the saying goes, all good things come to an end, and after a couple of days of relaxed fun, peace, laughter and far too much wine… it was time to hit the road again. 

My Gorgeous Man and My Friend’s Gorgeous Man had managed to un-dent the car wing so that the passenger door opened again… and new headlight lamps had been fitted at the local garage in the neighbouring village.  It had been boy bonding time at its best while us girls guzzled more wine and reminisced over our days flying the skies with BA.  With over 20 years of friendship we’d shared a ‘whole lotta life’s laughter, tears, challenges and crazy happy times.

So, from dog healing miracles and friends reunited… España was still calling… and our new life was waiting on the other side of another 2 days driving. 

There are gifts in every moment of this crazy life upon earth… and miracles are very much a part of it.

In my next post… we finally arrive at our new home!

Love,

 

 

 

PS.

Do you believe in miracles?
If not… then prepare to change your mind!

This is the story of Linda Pollock’s instantaneous healing from just one session of Channelling Love combined with Bio-energy healing.  Linda asked myself and Jo Beth Young for help when she was mysteriously struck down with 17 severe neurological stroke like symptoms, with a very poor prognosis for recovery.

Grab a cuppa and meet  Linda as we chat about her miracle healing and how it has totally transformed her life.

If you’d like to know more about working with myself and Jo Beth Young for one-off healing sessions or personal transformational programmes… click here… or post a reply below… or just email me!

 

The Day our Lives Changed Forever.

Recording the momentous moment when we left Edinburgh with our beloved Sir Maxelot for the drive down to our new home in Spain.

D-Day – Otherwise Known as Tuesday 21st November 2017

Aka….Departure Day

It was never going to be a conventional departure.  As in get up, get dressed and just go.  That would have been far too normal. 

We’d known for the past couple of months that My Gorgeous Man’s mother needed to attend a dermatological appointment with her consultant (nothing life threatening) on the morning of the Tuesday 21st November… so we’d always geared our departure around being able to take her to that. She’s in the early stages of dementia and what might seem like a simple appointment to Joe Bloggs brings on huge proportions of anxiety and confusion.  We knew what to expect, and it was important that she knew that we were there for her.

We were also having to factor in that our friends in France who we were pit stopping with, were going away on 25th and not having seen them since their wedding a couple of years ago… we wanted at least a couple of wild nights with them.   And we absolutely HAD to be back in Spain by Sunday 26th as our rent is due to be paid on the morning of the 27th in the agency office. So all in all, it was a bit of a logistical, organising dream come true for MGM.

So, on the morning of Tuesday 21st November, we were up at 6am (but again, awake long before that) to totally empty our flat, do a last hoover round and dispose of Sir Maxelot’s ripped up and destuffed duvets that definitely weren’t coming with us.  And of course, pack the last remaining bags into the car… which had mysteriously multiplied into making it very full car indeed.

We said a final thank you to the flat that had become our haven during our unplanned 2 year stay in Scotland, and pulled the door closed on that chapter of our lives.

This was it!

We were off to a new life in Spain… or more immediately… off to MGM’s mother in Musselburgh.

What we didn’t anticipate was a drama and confusion over the central heating when we arrived.  But MGM being the knight in shining armour that he is, checked, clarified, double checked, triple checked back with his brother, wrote out instructions… and then drove his mother into the Edinburgh hospital,  along with the whole of our life in the back of the car.

Sir Maxelot and I stayed in the comforts of her living room and had bit of a power nap and love in…. with lots of Reiki, which he loves.  It helps him with his anxiety.  Let’s face it.  His normal routine had already been blown to bits and he is an emotionally sensitive, grumpy old bugger who likes his structure, home comforts and… alone time.  Lots of patience, love and strong space would need to be held for him throughout the week’s journey and transition to Spain.

Where there's Love, there's no separation.
Where there’s Love, there’s no separation.

MGM and his mother ended up being away for a good couple of hours and had been told that a day surgery procedure would go ahead in December.  It made our ‘Adios’ a bit easier and more difficult at the same time as it was already looking like MGM would have to come back to the UK after just 3 weeks.

Hugs and ‘Adios’s’ all round… and we finally hit the road… again.

And went straight to the nearby Asda to get in some unhealthy but very welcome chocolate, crisps and fizzy drink for Driver Number One ie. MGM… (he’d gone waaaay past the healthy wheatgrass smoothies by this point)…  and I wanted to get some last minute fluffy pjs for my friend J who was still down in Spain waiting for us at our new home.  Apparently the temperature had dropped quite a bit since I left after running the first two Channelling Love retreats.

QUICK PLUG! 

Escape to the stunning Alpujarra region of the Spanish Sierra Nevada mountains and relax into a deeply nurturing and healing retreat weekend with the Star Beings of Channelling Love. Staying in the gorgeous Eco-finca above the spa town of Lanjaron, with its lush gardens, olive groves, organic pool and stunning mountain views, you’ll enjoy the privacy of your own room with ensuite facilities, delicious organic vegetarian meals and the space to breathe and just be. We will gather in morning circles to immerse in the high vibration of the Channelling Love Star Beings to open your heart, ignite your creativity, blast through your fears and blocks and bring you back into your power. Gaining deeper insight to your true self through the Illumination Oracle cards, you will be encouraged to trust your intuition and learn how to hear the messages of your heart over your head. This retreat also offers you the exclusive opportunity to have a rare, personal conversation with the Star Beings. This special retreat is not a 'workshop' or 'holiday'. It's a retreat into your heart and You. It's a chance to get away from it all, step away from the stress, drop the drama and have the space to be still and fully present. Throughout the retreat you are held within the continual healing energy current of Channelling Love and supported by the surrounding sacred mountains and inspirational scenery. You are free to spend meditative time alone, relax, go for walks, discover Lanjaron's Moorish Castle and explore the area further... or just sit and read by the pool. And while the channellings and energy of the retreat heals your soul, your physical body is being nourished and revived through organic vegetarian food and non toxic living.
MESSAGE ME OR POST A COMMENT BELOW TO FIND OUT MORE!

 

So… it wasn’t until after midday that we finally left Edinburgh… and to be honest we were both a bit shellshocked and numb.  We had booked the 0123 Eurotunnel because it was the cheapest time, but it also gave us a massive 12 hours for the 9 hours drive, and with the hope that we could try and blag an earlier shuttle if needed.

The next few hours were spent, funnily enough, driving down the A1. 

What can be more inspirational than the sun rising in the sky.
Sunrise in our Spanish garden.

My friend J had Whatsapped us some ‘you’re doing great and keep going’ motivational photos from our awaiting Spanish garden… with the morning sun rising above the mountains, and it most definitely helped spur us on. 

The weather for our first day’s driving was dark grey,  rainy and particularly shite.

One thing became very apparent during the first 5 hours of our drive.  It’s not until you spend 5 hours continually cooped up in the car with your beloved dog that you realise how much gas he actually expels…  it was acrid.  Sir Maxelot was totally oblivious to our streaming eyes, distress and rapid window opening…he was laid out in the palatial boot on his specially purchased memory foam mattress and favourite fleece rugs.  Our boy knows how to travel.  And we know how to spoil him.

But it felt like frikking FOR-EVAAAAH to even get down to Leeds. 

We were feeling totally fried and  we were only just half way.  You may remember that I’m not the best of passengers … so I spent a lot of time with my head in my brand new phone. 

The day before, after having had lunch with my mother and moved though another emotionally charged “Adios” …. (she had put on a very brave front but I could feel what she was feeling and it was tough on both of us,) MGM and I followed our guts and made a mad dash to upgrade and up level my phone tech. 

It had been very obvious while I’d been in Spain that my phone and network weren’t going to cut it.  My livestreams had massively pixelated and my much anticipated LIVE interview with the inspirational cancer warrior Fi Munro had fallen flat as my phone didn’t have the capacity to hold the connection.  Gutted.  And embarrassed.  Not going to happen again.  Nope.

Seeing as our new life in Spain is based upon my work as a channel… it was a no brainer to invest in the foundations for our future.  It had to be done.  So we did it.  I’m now the proud owner of a snazzy powerful iPhone that does things I‘d never even dreamed of and have no idea how to work. 

But the eyestrain became too much as the greyness turned into blackness.  It was now just a long drive in the dark.  And in the rain. Yuk.

We made pitstops every couple of hours to clear our heads and to give Sir Maxelot a stretch.  He was way more chilled out than us.  And he peed and poo’d according to his usual structure and routine… and we gave him his first outdoor dinner in a services carpark somewhere in the midlands… I think.  And he ate it… which meant he was doing a-ok. 

MGM, not so much.

 He needed to power nap… not even lucozade was helping.  So I went into the services and blanched at the price of a latte while he instantly fell asleep.  I came back after about 20 minutes to find him totally sparko, leaning at an awkward angle with his mouth wide open and looking absolutely gorgeous.  I do love My Hunky Handsome Hero.  So I went back into the services and loitered around the M&S food store.  The only thing that grabbed my attention was the prossecco… and nope, I didn’t.  In hindsight, I wish I had.

Things became a bit blurry after about 8pm.  We were on autopilot.  The Google Be-atch took us on a detour off the motorway which perplexed us and drastically lowered our stress tolerance, but after about 30 minutes of “For F*cks saking” we were reunited with the M20.  The last hour felt like it would never end.  One last pitstop for Max to release (in accordance with his night time schedule of 10.30pm) and then we realised that we were practically right next to the Channel Tunnel after all. 

When you find yourself getting tense and stressed... take a deep breath and let the stress go. Slow down your breath and you'll feel your body begin to relax. Be your own healer!
Just breathe…

We had to pull over for a bit of rapid, tense “Where the F*ck is it??!” delving in a bag on the back seat to dig out passports… and just before we got to the kiosk, we were strangely asked to reverse back out of the queue and up between the concrete bollards to pull in to the neighbouring kiosk which looked deserted. 

All passports glanced at… including Max’s and we were sent on to the French border kiosk, which was as similarly disinterested in any of us.

It turned out that our hope of hitching an earlier ride to France was impossible.  We’d not long missed boarding for the 2320 shuttle… and the next one wasn’t till our booked one at 0123.  All we could do was park up and wait.  And I went into the terminal to get a bit of space.  MGM and I were frazzled and trying not to snap… although he did a better job at holding it together than me.  So I left ‘ma boyz’ alone for a bit and went for a cuppa and watched the shenanigans of 5 grown men up ladders trying to put up the central ceiling Christmas lights and decorations.  I quickly got bored and went back to the car to try and show my appreciation and gratitude for all MGM’s driving.

I was actually so discombobulated that I couldn’t even be arsed to start panicking about the Eurotunnel. 

I’m claustrophobic, so going underground, let alone underwater was something that I would avidly avoid in normal circumstances.  But I’d had to pull on my big, brave pants because even worse than being underground, was the thought of leaving Sir Maxelot alone in the car on a ferry’s lower decks.  So when we were finally waved into the shuttle train and the sides began to close in on me, I listened intently to the safety announcement like a good girl and thought happy thoughts that didn’t include leaks or sea water. 

It wasn’t nearly as bad as I thought it would be.

Sir Maxelot loves watching the world go by... and in this instance he's enjoying looking at the car behind us in the Eurotunnel.
Sir Maxelot on Eurotunnel look out…

I chose to ignore my changing ear pressure that marked our descent under the sea… but Max was loving his ride… he had the car behind him to check out… and we could see the guys taking photos of his handsomeness peeking out of the back window at them.

We arrived in France at 2am… except it was now 3am with the time change.  The Google Be-atch thankfully led us straight to our budget Ibis 10 minutes away and we finally pulled into the carpark at 0333… another master number!   

The meaning of number two is balance, harmony, peace, justice, cooperation, duality, intuition, patience and spirituality. ... If you are seeing the number in your life, it signifies that you should have some patience and trust that your dreams are being manifested.
Divine Master Numbers!

For a while during the journey we’d had the double master number of 22.22 as our predicted arrival time at the Eurotunnel… so we’d felt very Universally supported and protected!  I do love the Divine signs of the Universe.

We pulled out our overnight bags… woke Sir Maxelot from his comfy bed… and headed to the automated check in machine and thankfully all that worked too. A slip of paper was printed out with our room number and a code to get in the door.

It was like walking into a plastic prison cell and Sir Maxelot was not best pleased… hardly any room to turn his longness around and he stood steadfastly looking at the door.  So much so, that MGM thought he might be asking to go out… so he took him out again.  But all he did was go mental at a giant rabbit that appeared from nowhere.  His old training and instinct as a hunting breed and ex-racer was still very much alive.  Back in the room, I took the top single bunk… and the boys happily took the double bed below.  There was no space to bring his mattress in at all.  And we all said goodnight.

Max has a furry watch and it's time for breakfast!
Breakfast!

Max slept well.  We both heard him excitedly chasing that rabbit while we tried to count sheep.  And at about 8 am we surfaced from a half uncomfy sleep into semi conscious action.  It was time to just hit the road again.  Sir Maxelot had breakfast served in the car park and then he happily jumped back into this fleecy palace.  We took deep breaths, set up google Be-atch and headed into the unknown.

 

 

An hour in and we stopped for french pain au chocolate… and 2 hours in, we hit Paris.

When the energy comes in to write... it doesn't matter where you are! Blogging around the outskirts of Paris and trying not to see the crazy driving around us!
Blogging on the go…

As I’ve been writing,  and you’ve been reading, My Gorgeous Hero of a Man has masterfully navigated the jammed packed roads filled with pushy, Parisian tailgating drivers who know very well where they are going. He managed to drive us through all the turn offs, verge lefts, rights and whatever else was needed to keep us going south. 

It was extremely intense. 

 He’s a much, much happier A1 Driver when I don’t ‘help’… and I’m a much, much happier passenger when I don’t see red brake lights lighting up in front of me.  We make a fab team.  I heard the call from the Universe to write this blog post now, with my laptop on my lap and my head and my heart in the blogging world of Namaste This… and it meant that MGM and I could remain friends and in lurv after all.

So there you have it… we’re a day and a half into our transition into a new life.  We’ve another 6 hours or so to go until we’re in the Mid Pyrenees where we’re staying for 3 nights with one of my dearest friends.  We met way back in the early 1990’s flying for BA and oh boy… we had some great times in the good ole days… which was affectionally known as Beach Fleet… i.e.. Gatwick Base in the 1990’s.   Despite the distance and the passing  years… we’ve always been there for each other.  It’s a true friendship… we just pick up where we left off. 

The only blip on this French horizon is that they have an excitable Rhodesian Ridgeback puppy… and as gorgeous as she is… we’re praying and asking Sir Maxelot to love her too.  As with some ex-racing greyhounds, he’s not that keen on other breeds of dogs… but combined with his preference for sleeping and alone time, it’s going to be an interesting couple of days for sure.

I’ll keep you very much posted.

Love,

 

PS.  The Benefits of Breathing Deeply

One of the easiest and quickest ways to reduce increasing stress and anxiety (either in the moment or longterm)  is to take some long, slow deep breaths.  Generally, we don’t use the full capacity of our lungs when we breathe…  and this means that there isn’t the maximum amount of oxygen in our blood cells to fuel our body.

The Benefits of:

  • Lowers stress
  • Lowers anxiety
  • Lowers blood pressure
  • Promotes blood flow
  • Promotes clear thinking
  • Releases toxins from the body
  • Strengthens abdominal and intestinal muscles
  • Natural pain relief
  • Increased energy
  • Increased self awareness

Try it and see!

For a count of 5 – Breathe in through your nose, and down into your belly
Hold for a count of 2
For a count of 5 – Breathe out through your mouth
Repeat 5 times
Build up the repetitions!

Start bringing this very simple and basic exercise into your daily practise and whenever you feel any anxiety building up.

Towel Swans, Mountain Views and Loving Google Maps

The Orgiva Mountains and orange groves...

So here I am sitting on our terrace in the Spanish Alpujarras with the late afternoon sun on my face, and I’m just so filled with gratitude.  Mad dashes to hospitals and crazy life challenges already feel like a lifetime away… but I thought you might enjoy what went down when I landed into Spain to claim our new home… just over 2 weeks ago!

Due to our flat not selling as we’d hoped… and My Gorgeous Man’s emergency surgery,  I was having to leave MGM and Sir Maxelot behind in Scotland.  It was a lot harder than I thought it was going be.  Through all the rough and tumble of the last few months, we were both in need of ‘me’ space… we had even been joking about what a relief it would be. 

Sir Maxelot... with the eyes to melt the hardest of hearts.
Sir Maxelot… with the eyes to melt the hardest of hearts.

For two and a half weeks, MGM would have our great big, comfy sofa, complete control of the remote control, super fast, strong internet and the company of our beloved, unsociable greyhound… and have the space to tie up many of the loose ends needed to close up our Scottish life.  And I would move into our new Spanish home, get everything established and have the joy of the mountains and the company of my dear friend Jo Beth Young as I ran my first two Channelling Love Retreats.  

I would be setting up Spanish base camp.

But when MGM dropped me off at Edinburgh airport… I got all girly and teary and had a great big lump in my throat.   What made it worse was that we’d not had a good morning as we’d packed up the next stage of our life and flat.  We were supposed to have been moving to Spain, happy and together.  Not like this at all.  Nope. Nope. Nope.

On the other hand… and ever the optimist…

I was still very excited to be going!

Inside the terminal I dropped off my bag that was within a whisper of the maximum limit, and then I got completely and utterly scanned, x-rayed, undressed, searched, unpacked, questioned and swabbed at security.  I blame it on the mix of my big pouch of crystals, recording equipment, vitamins and all the contents of my Goddess Office that I’d been able to miraculously stuff into my wheelie bag. 

Freed and re-assembled, I headed straight for the bar.  But the bar was absolutely chocka and I just didn’t have the energy to push through and stand there alone like ‘billy no mates’ with a large glass of vino blanco.

So, I got a meal deal from Superdrug, scrounged some space on a bench and speed read through a very trashy newspaper instead.

By the time I landed at Gatwick, all my emotional and physical knackeredness was kicking off and in. I felt like I’d been pulled through a hedge backwards, forwards, and sideways.  I felt sick, excited, terrified, upset, wiped out and just about everything that wasn’t peace and love.  It turned out that my friend, J, had had a similarly tumultuous day, so we headed straight to M&S in the terminal to get some supplies in for our room at the budget Airport Inn. 

It shows you how knackered we were, when we only got a quarter bottle each.

Tired of dragging our suitcases (which felt like the dead weight of our entire life’s possessions) around the terminal we said “F*ck it,” to finding the elusive courtesy hotel bus stop and treated ourselves to a taxi.  And within a few minutes we had a plastic keycard in our hands… then we were marvelling at the towel swans on our beds… making Wonder Woman changes into PJs… emptying our quarter bottles of bubbles into the mugs and taking turns to spew out our day’s traumas.

Living the dream and marvelling at the welcoming towel swans and rocking the bubbles in mugs.
You can’t beat towel swans and bubbles in hotel room mugs!

And everything began to feel so much better. 

Because that’s what true friends and soul sisters are for.

The alarm went off at an ungodly hour the next morning, not that long after our verbal diarrhoea had actually calmed down…  and we dragged our bags and asses downstairs and dragged our bags and asses onto the bus… dragged our bags and asses along escalators and dragged our bags and asses to the check-in that’s no longer called check-in.  It’s all drop off… except not… because my friend had a guitar with her… and that had to make it’s own sacred journey through outsized baggage.  Now you wouldn’t think that any of this would be difficult.  But what made it all very interesting was that my friend was completely and utterly, legally drugged up to her eyeballs with super duper tranquillisers in order for her to even step on to our waiting plane.  So, for all intents and purposes, her body was there, but she most definitely was not.  She was zombieville on legs. 

Amazingly when I’d done the online check the day before, our separate, independent  bookings had been seated together. 

I mean, c’mon, that is sheer magical Universal support, if ever there was!

So I did feel that everything was going to flow with ease… and hey presto it did.  J managed to get on the plane without freaking out, she got a bit tangled up and confused with her seat belt… but travelling with an ex-HotHostie with 23 years flying experience, has its advantages.  I even remembered where the exits were and I very much enjoyed rebelling and not watching the pre-flight briefing.

The flight was full… but fine. 

The woman on the aisle opposite was a constant source of entertainment as she shifted through image changes, clothing options, beany on and beany off.  We had our sandwiches and crisps and as J had requested nonstop distraction and chats… that’s what we did.  For two and a half hours.  I kind of felt sorry for anyone around us.  Our random chats ranged from “You’ll never believe what happened” to full on ‘spookywuwu’ and “I wonder what it’s going to be like when we get there.”

J was blessed.  She was on drugs. 

It's through facing our fear that we discover our true strength.
Face your Fears!

And I didn’t really want to admit that I was nervous about the car rental and finding our way out of Malaga.  But we had our best friend Google all lined up on my mobile… so what could possibly go wrong?

For a start, at the car hire desk everything was going great until the subject of insurance came up.  I was under strict instructions from My Gorgeous Man NOT to be frightened into taking out the fully comprehensive option. 

“It’s not necessary” he told me.  “You don’t need it… it’s a scam!” 

Funnily enough J’s Dad had said exactly the same thing when she left for the airport too.  But when that very nice lady behind the desk, who looked so honest, helpful and trusting, said that I wouldn’t be covered for any damage and I wouldn’t have any roadside assistance… my resolve broke and another couple of hundred quid was added to my credit card. 

I felt sheepish and done over.  J was kind of coming out of zombieville and did her best to make me feel better.  I felt sick to my stomach.  Anyway… we dragged our asses and bags around the terminal… down the ramp… along the lower level garage with row upon row of rental cars and could we frigging find parking place number 77 where our dinky car was waiting for us?  Nope.  It should have been so easy. 

But it wasn’t. 

And then we found it. 

It was a doh moment that neither of us want to mention again. 

Spookily, the number 77 is a very positive and significant number for me, so all things considered, we were off to a good start.  Turns out it’s J’s lucky number too.  And MGM is also a 7 man, so the Universe really was stacking up the good stuff for us.

We took our time packing up our dinky, minuscule car, which took some figuring out with a large, awkward shaped guitar case along with solid suitcases, wheelies, bags et all… but eventually I got in behind the wheel.  I took some more time to figure out left from right, indicators, wipers, lights and all the usual essentials… and then there was no putting it off.  I was going to have to drive.

Put the “Google Be-atch on,” … and… “Wagons roll!” 

I should just add that calling Google Maps the ‘Google Be-atch’ is a term of endearment.  When we were in France she took us down many a tiny road that no car should ever go down… and which had us swearing our heads off… at her… but at the end of the day, she always got us to where we wanted to go.  We love her, really.

So, driving out of the car park, the Google Be-atch roared into action, took us around a couple of roundabouts and onto a very busy and fast dual carriage way. 

And then the Be-atch froze. 

J’s state of zombieville was prevailing and I could see her struggling to compute.  There was nothing for it but to keep on driving and hope that the Google Be-atch caught up with us. 

But she didn’t.

Our responses to life's challenges are our choice.
We can choose how to respond to any challenge that comes our way!

J did an amazing job of forcing her brain into full action and fired up her own Google Be-atch… and we both sighed a sigh of relief as she told us to keep going in the direction we’d found ourselves going in.  But when we weren’t commanded to turn off towards Granada, we knew there was something very wrong. 

What also felt ‘wrong’ was the fact that Spanish drivers just don’t give way and they drive right up your frikking ass.  My enforced zen, was very forced.  I would guess that J was secretly very relieved that her horse strength tranquillisers hadn’t fully worn off.

It turned out that J’s Google Be-atch was programmed to avoid motorways and before we knew it, we were heading into the frenzy of Torremolinos.  And I heart stoppingly discovered that our minuscule car’s brakes, were very, very soft and very, very slow indeed. 

Much more zen was needed than anticipated.

There was nothing for it, but to take control. I defied J’s Google B and went fully round the next roundabout and headed back towards the airport.  J managed to reboot my Google B and we warmly welcomed her back into our lives… especially when she told us where to go… and it made sense.

The motorway was extremely busy and within our first half hour, we drove past 2 crashes that had blocked off lanes.  J and I were consciously breathing very deeply and saying “Everything’s fine!” in very high pitched voices.

Thankfully, as we left the city behind, the traffic eased and I made friends with our minuscule car and we settled in for the drive up into The Alpujarras.  Turning off the motorway about an hour later towards Orgiva was very exciting… and I then had a momentous wave of hugest appreciation for MGM’s driving back in June.   Windy mountain roads.  It was very different to city driving… and the number of cars up my ass was proof of it.

We rocked into Orgiva in third gear at around 4pm.

We had about an hour before meeting our Angel Agent to take possession of the keys to our new home.  I had no idea if I would be asked for more rent, cash, bank details, or have to pay for October that we had had to cancel.  I had no idea if I would even be able to understand him.  Perhaps it had all been a fluke back in June.  Or perhaps he wouldn’t even show up.  So J and I went for one of those iced lattes to die for and hit the sugar boost, hard.  And at 5pm almost on the dot… there he was, opening the door to his office that we were keeping an eye on from our overloaded sugar station. 

OMG, how I loved and thanked the Universe in those next moments. 

He smiled, shook our hands, asked after our flight and said he would take us straight to the house.  Rent could be sorted out tomorrow morning!  Wow!

“Let’s go!”  he said… “Follow me and I’ll take you there!”  So we did!

We managed to find each other in our respective cars on the other side of the town square and off we went.

Inspirational and heart opening stuff when the road to your new home is bordered by natural beauty...
The road to our new home…

Around the back of Orgiva, along a windy, single track, with the mountains lit up by the lowering sun and orange trees lining the way.  We pulled in through the gates, up past more orange trees, rose bushes and morning glory flowers adorning the fences… and then, there she was. The owner Rosa was outside the house with a great big welcoming smile… and a basket of fruit from the gardens, milk, water… and bottle of red wine in the fridge.  We were overwhelmed. 

“See you tomorrow!” the Angel Agent waved as he left and then Rosa happily handed over the keys and headed back down to her house below.

And that was it. 

Job done. 

I had moved us to Spain.

The house was ours. 

No problems.  No complications.  No fuss. 

Just trust, ease and flow.

I couldn’t quite believe it.

As soon as they left, J and I cracked open our celebratory bottle of bubbles and proceeded to happily glug it back as the sun went down.  And then we cracked open another bottle as the stars shone out from the clear night sky.  And we finished that one too.  What a day.

Is it every possible to tire of a view that inspires your heart? Nope, I don't think so either.
Not a bad view to enjoy with a glass of bubbles…

Oh how I wished MGM and Sir Maxelot were with us… I already missed them.  And as I glanced up into the heavens a massive shooting star glittered its way across the sky.

Wow.  Thank you Universe!  

Once again you’ve given us a sign, that moving to the Alpujarras is absolutely, without a doubt… the right move for us… and the place for us to call home.

In my next instalment I’ll be sharing what went down during my first 2 weeks here… it’s not what you’d expect!  

Love,

 

 

 

 

PS.  And this is why I’m now sooooo glad I was railroaded into the hire car fully comp insurance with roadside assistance.  A totally flat tyre… with a bestie who knows how to change one… and a brand new replacement car on the way.

Once again, the Universe knew best.

More on this story next time!

Yup... a mountain puncture and a bestie with a spooky mechanical gift.
Yup… a mountain puncture and a bestie with a spooky mechanical gift.