You’re right…. it’s been a while since you’ve seen a new post here. In fact, it’s been over a month since my last confession… ahem, post… but like all procrastinators, I have a good reason. Life got super, crazy busy… and I simply ran out of steam.
The sale went through on the 30th July 2018 and we became the proud new owners of our wee miracle home… the full story is coming soon… I promise… because it was one helluva day! A day to be celebrated and incomprehensible bureaucracy marvelled at.
We didn’t actually move in until the 1st of October, because there was no electricity, no water, no nothing… and we still had 2 months left on our rental. There was a huge amount of logistics to be put in place before we finally stepped over the threshold… and it was a tough time of going back and forth, back and forth, trying to co-ordinate non-co-ordinating Spanish plans… and in the middle of all that, Sir Maxelot started to go rapidly downhill again and I was working online and had a wonderfully crazy, busy run of bookings for healings.
What should have been an exciting time, turned into a marathon of endurance and positive attitude. We were already exhausted by the time moving day finally came round… and we weren’t even sure if we would be able to get a poorly Sir Maxelot into the car. That is another miracle to be shared on another day!
Once in the hoose, we literally collapsed as we hit the ground running… had a massive storm and massive flash flood in our first week… the septic tank blocked… we still have no running water… but we do now have the humungous water deposit built to store the water… when we can eventually fill it. And I’m very relieved to say that our solar power works an absolute treat and the Chatty Cathy setting just keeps telling us what’s being done, stored, powered up, used and basically keeping us novices, right. We did however learn that starting up a hoover trips the whole system.
We’ve been on a very steep learning curve and it feels that we’ve learnt everything the hard way. There have been many moments where we started to wonder WTF have we done. Quite simply, everything has continued to escalate day after day after day. Some great stuff has happened. And some really, not so great stuff has happened. But this is what we signed up for when we chose to leave our conventional Scottish life behind and start afresh in Southern Spain.
The thing is… we all want the miracle… we all dream of the miracle… we long for the miracle, beg for it, ask for it, pray for it and more often than not, don’t quite believe it will ever happen.So when it does happen… it’s a huge shock and a very welcome head f*ck. We had committed verbally to purchasing our wee dream home and it turned out that the fun was only just about to begin.
MGM immediately accepted the offer on his flat… and the completion was scheduled for the 17th May 2018.This meant, the Spanish purchase couldn’t move forward either because we just didn’t have the cash deposit sitting in our rather threadbare back pockets.There was going to have to be a whole lot of trust that our sellers wouldn’t gazump us… and that MGM’s buyers would see their purchase through.We signed an agreement to buy, but as the estate agent said, it could just be ripped up with no consequences.Great.Good to know…
Add in the ‘not a bonus’ of MGM having to return to Scotland to sign his final sale papers and a whole bigger picture began to emerge that was an organisational wet dream for My Gorgeous Man’s project management mind… and a bit of a nightmare for my ‘just go with the flow’ approach.
So here’s the very condensed version of May and June.
Our trusty Honda estate’s MOT’s due date was rapidly approaching… and there were some worrying rattling suspension noises that we’d been successfully ignoring.We looked into the costs and bureaucratic complexities of re-nationalising the Honda onto Spanish number plates… but jeeeeezo… it was pricey.I mean really pricey.More dosh than could be justified for such an old car.
So the decision was made that MGM would drive the Honda back to Bonnie Scotland, get her serviced, MOT’d and sold, while selling his flat, and unpacking, repacking and courier-ing out to Spain some of our most treasured belongings that had been secretly stashed in his mother’s attic since we left last year and really wanted to have in our new home.
Of course, MGM taking the Honda back, meant that we had to buy a Spanish car pretty damn quick… as in we had 10 days.What we discovered was that second hand Spanish cars are HUGELY EXPENSIVE… and when you don’t have the lingo or a clue what’s actually going on… it’s a frikking nightmare.
Cue a big heart.
Our friendly English mechanic along the road said he would help us and come and check out anything we wanted to see… phew.
Cue another miracle!
My Gorgeous Man during his online car hunt saw a post in our local community Facebook page… for a 4×4 Kangoo which is the preferred vehicle for the rural roads here.It’s a bit like a Postman Pat van and a whole world away from our old Saab convertible that we’d bought on our return to the UK from Hong Kong 3 years ago… which had been reluctantly traded in for the trusty family Honda with the massive boot to accommodate the arrival of our princely greyhound giant, Sir Maxelot.
But, wouldn’t you believe it, it turned out the Kangoo was being sold by a Scottish woman who had followed her dream to live out here 4 years ago.It’s a beautiful small world we live in!
So off we went with our friendly mechanic to check it out.Only a fifteen minute drive away, we drove up the narrow, steep track, past an abandoned red double decker bus (God knows how it got there) and into the drive of the most perfectly gorgeous hobbit house we’d ever seen.And Mary was there to greet us. But just as we turned round to introduce said mechanic, we saw him peeing up against one of her trees.The silence was actually hilarious.Not phased or put off at all, (because that’s how life rolls here in Orgiva) the inspection went ahead and then we all shook on the sale. Her rescue dogs witnessed the transaction as the deposit was handed over and the ‘deal’ was scribbled out on a scrap of paper.And she had 10 days to find her new car before MGM took the Honda back to the UK.
Cue, crazy car purchasing paperwork!Holy Moly.I went to our friendly legal advice office for expats… Alpujarra Conect… and every time I went in there I thought I’d remember what they said and had understood what was needed… but obviously not.I had to go to the town hall… get a document for ‘Empandronamiento’… get that stamped, get it copied, get copies of the Spanish version of the V5, MOT thingy… and cough up roughly £200 for the pleasure of transferring the name from our new found compatriots to mine… and get a real lawyer to do the actual paperwork in Granada for us because there was no way we were going to try that ourselves.It had taken me 2 attempts to get the town hall right. Google translate was no match for the blank looks at my increasingly embarrassed and panicky attempts to explain myself. I found it all a tad stressful and felt a right numpty if truth be told.
But eventually we welcomed Jimmy the Kangoo into our lives.Yup.Our Kangoo was a Scottish Jimmy before he even came to us… and he is a right character.We loved him from the word go.Noisy, rattley, a bit battered on the outside but with a strong heart , temperamental gear box and just full of character…We had our ‘campo car’ at last and it was another step deeper into permanent life in Spain.
So the day dawned that My Gorgeous Man was to leave me, Sir Maxelot and Jimmy ensconced in our little rental in the Alpujarra mountains.Now, I normally like my alone time and space, but on this occasion I got all weepy and girly at him leaving.And as I waved him off down the drive, my heart was heavy.MGM drove off with a beep of the horn and there was nothing for it but to open a bottle of cheap plonk, dive into Netflix and cuddle Sir Maxelot… as much as you can cuddle a non-demonstrative, mini sized pony.
My Gorgeous Man had a long and lonely 3 day journey ahead of him involving a mid Spain pit stop and a run for the Bilbao ferry with a 28 hour sea ride to Portsmouth without wifi… and another 8 odd hours drive up to Edinburgh through the night.And he would only return to us in Spain when his flat was sold and the Honda was sold.
My absent hero.
It wasn’t good timing though because a couple of days later our beloved old Sir Maxelot’s health took a dive.So much so that I couldn’t even get him into Jimmy to take him to the healer who’d been taking care of him.She came to us instead.Poor Max.The stress of living with feral cats determined to stand their ground and taunt him was taking its toll on his nervous system and general old age arthritic kronky, fragility.And when she told me about a good vet 40 minutes away on the coast in Motril, rather than the local one in Orgiva, I knew what she was saying.He really was on the edge. And all his issues were exacerbated by the fact that he was pining for MGM.
Oh those boys… interspecies adoration… what a pair.
It was not a good time.
MGM and I started sharing WhatsApps on speaker phone so Max could hear his voice… I became primary dog nurse and emotional picker-upper and just kept on praying and praying that he would stay with us until MGM could get back.But as yet there was no fixed date for My Gorgeous Man to return.
So with MGM finally arriving back on Scottish home turf and feeling extremely jaded, out of sorts and with a very sore heart for his furry baby, he started getting his flat in order for the final sale, holding his patience and tongue with estate agents and lawyers who didn’t do what they said they would do and juggling, car MOT’s, services, staying with his family and sneaking up into his mother’s attic to unpack, repack those personal treasures that we’d been missing.
Scrabbling through boxes in the attic was not as easy as he thought it would be.It’s still a sore subject… but eventually 3 new 30kg boxes were filled and waved off with the courier with the promise of them arriving with me in Spain…in 5 days.
Well, our boxes of books, my remaining crystals and MGM’s DIY tools, and our shared home delights made it to Granada in super quick time and then promptly disappeared off the radar and the face of the earth.
The UK couriers blamed Spain and Spain knew nothing and the black hole of all black holes just got deeper and deeper.
In the meantime… THE day had come and MGM signed the paperwork on the sale of his flat and he sighed a mahoosive sigh of relief as the buyers had niggled, questioned, hummed and hawed at every turn and MGM then had to survive another 5 days of agony praying that the central heating wouldn’t give up or something else wouldn’t fall apart that he’d still be liable for.I do believe that MGM had a substantial hangover the morning after signing. Of course, none of this ‘flat sale stress’ was helped by the couriers only being contactable through computer messages and chats without a human in sight to help us find our boxes.
Our boxes were absolutely nowhere to be found. My Gorgeous Man’s blood pressure was pretty high and even my usual “it’ll be alright” attitude, now had an underlying tension with added dollops of doubt.
Now, the Honda still had to get through its MOT but as expected, it failed.Cue more repairs without the help of a friendly mechanic along the road and a considerable sum was added to the credit card to get our trusty estate back on its legal feet.But we still couldn’t actually sell it, because the V5 that had been requested to change from my name into MGM’s name so that he could sell it, still hadn’t appeared.So another few days were spent in suspended limbo waiting for that to land… and, of course, a buyer still had to be found.
C’mon Universe!More miracles puleeeeez!!!
It had been almost 2 weeks that MGM had been away, Sir Maxelot wasn’t doing well, the V5 was still missing and I was SO over having quiet alone time in the casita while our treasured belongings were lost somewhere in the depths of Spain.
The Universe answered!Cue miracle!
MGM’s brother’s neighbour was interested in our Honda!Cue sale!
Now… to wait for the V5.
Well, wouldn’t you know it, but it angelically floated down onto the doormat the very next day! And MGM promptly booked his flight home.
That day offered us 3 steps forward and a giant leap back as we heard that our 3 x 30kg boxes had allegedly been signed for, delivered and yet were still nowhere to be found.
Cue, a desperate visit to Alpujarra Conect… who very soon wished I’d never walked through their door needing a translator and phone call to be made.MGM was sending PDFs, screenshots, photos of boxes and messages from the UK and I was standing in Spain piecing it all together for the translation to be passed on.
Their initial call to the help line, revealed that our tracking number didn’t exist and another number in an office down on the coast was offered up.But still no answers and still no boxes.
The good news though, was that MGM was now coming home!
Because Sir Maxelot was so weak… one of our dear friends went to Malaga to pick MGM up straight off his ‘stag party’ of a Ryanair flight as we had agreed it wouldn’t be a good idea to leave our furry baby alone for the 4 hours round trip. And later that night,as our hero walked in the door Sir Maxelot’s tailed wagged and his spirit’s picked up and he turned a corner.
That’s the healing power of love.
And I didn’t take it personally.
MGM is pretty special after all.
Back home, and after a marathon sleep, MGM got on the case of the lost boxes with full force.
Phone calls to automated UK systems, phone calls to offices that knew nothing… phone calls to people who knew nothing… messages through automated systems that knew nothing… supervisors dragged in that didn’t want to know anything or do anything.Calls to Alpujarra Conect who were just as confused as we were.Drives to Granada and the promises of boxes being in the depot.The promises of local courier drivers saying that he’d seen them and would bring them.The joy of a delivery saying the boxes were in town, only to be confronted with 3 boxes that looked nothing like ours and were for a German recipient.The sheer frustration and desperation and lesson in non attachment to material possessions was un-frikking-believable
Honestly… the stress of not giving up on our lost possessions was taking it’s toll and MGM was permanently at his wits end… and yet still determined to win.
It took a total of 3 week’s to be reunited with our boxes.And it wouldn’t have been a happy ending if My Gorgeous Hero of a Man hadn’t been so bloody stubborn and determined to track them down, pin people down and go way beyond any customer’s limits of sanity and belief, to get them back.
But he did.Long story short… they were eventually dumped in the foyer of Alpujarra Conect, battered and partly open but…. they really were there.Hardly daring to breathe, we opened them up on the lawn and the miracle was…. all contents were there and amazingly in tact.Even my crystals had made it in one piece.
It turned out the tracking number had been changed. Why? We’ll never know. And we almost didn’t care.
And in amongst all of that chaos, we paid the deposit on our dream wee home.That in itself also proved to be challenging because IBAHN numbers kept coming back as invalid, addresses didn’t correspond, the names we were given didn’t match and it was another lesson in breathing with patience, love and trust as our pounds became euros and our dream finally became a reality.
We were emotionally wrung out…
And yet there was more.
The ever shifting conditions, inclusions, boundaries and details of the property became confusingly blurry… and we began to wonder if the actual day of the purchase would ever go ahead.
If you’ve never bought a property in Spain then you can’t begin to imagine how bureaucratic chaos becomes the legally binding transaction for one of the most important things you’ll ever do in your life.
And that’s what I’ll share in my next instalment.The day we purchased our wee dream home and the enormous realisation of the what it actually meant not to have any electricity or running water.
PS…. TOP TIP FOR CLEANSING YOUR CRYSTALS
First of all check your crystals can be put in water. I like to sit them under the tap so it’s almost like a waterfall of water over them, cleansing and clearing away dust, and energetic residue.
Then I love to put them outside in the sun (note that not all crystals like direct sunlight!) so they can breathe and charge up energetically. You can also ‘moon bathe’ crystals, which is especially powerful during the phase of the full moon.
All my crystals are cleared energetically and attuned to my energy and some of them have special tasks and roles. I’ll talk more about that another time.
In the meantime… here’s all my beloved crystals lying out on the terrace and breathing in the light, after their traumatic adventure of being ‘lost’ somewhere in Spain!
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
Of course there was the slight problem that there was no electricity.
And more importantly there was…
Solar power!Yay!Another of our dreams could become a reality.
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.
But… oh my… we loved that land and wee hoose.
AND we could even see the snow capped Sierra Nevada mountains to the north!
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.
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.
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!
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.
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!
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 😉
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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 transferthat 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.
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.
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.
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
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.
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.
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.
SoI 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.
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.
Thank you Angels!!!
You see… miracles do still happen!
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.
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.
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.
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… whileI 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.
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!
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.
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
Only547 Euros Early Bird price till 1st June!
Click on the image for further information and booking link 🙂
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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…
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.
One minute we were flying high on the euphoria of New Year and the next minute it was March andI’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 healerAnd 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.
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.
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 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.
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.
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!
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!”
“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.
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.
PS. Join my HEART of HEALING Facebook group and enjoy the grounding healing I shared after we moved into our new home!
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.
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.
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!
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.
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’thappening. 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.
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.
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.
PS. Go grab a cuppa or a bottle (!) and enjoy the interview with Fi Munro as I share my journey into Channelling Love!
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.
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.
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!
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!
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…… DR AA AA 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.
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.
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.
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.
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…
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.
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??
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.
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.
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 earthcould 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.
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, spindlylegs… 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.
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!
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!