The Silence of the Sheep

It’s been a very difficult several days at Chez Bee. The stress and strain of functioning at a high level in a second language every day is already significant, and on top of that there’s the actual physical stresses and strains of working on the house. We are making some real, solid progress, and I’m finding that the vast majority of the work is properly fun, but the general level of fatigue can’t be underestimated.

On top of all of that, the UK “Brexit” referendum happened and the result was horribly upsetting on every level. I feel like my adopted home country has unceremoniously cut me adrift. Even though I am still an EU citizen (thanks for being Irish, Dad!) and I’m in the middle of building a life in another country entirely, it’s a shitty, shitty feeling. And on top of the emotional aspect of the results, we now have to be worried about the fact that basically all of our money is still in pounds, and the pound is down through the floorboards in value. Adulting has rarely been this hard.

All that being said, I have so much to talk about that it simply will not do to sit and dwell on the anxiety, the uncertainty of the future, and my physical and emotional exhaustion, SO.   Regular blogging service will recommence herewith, with a story and a recipe.

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Three days ago, I walked through this gate with the keys to the front door in my pocket.

It doesn’t exactly impress at first glance, my house. The fence is in a terrible state of repair, with – as you can see – the wood of the gate itself falling to bits. The garden is ludicrously overgrown, two and a half years of ivy and weeds climbing over each other to carpet everything in their path. The cedars reaching into the top left corner of the photo above are a riot of birdsong; the roses on the right snatch at clothes and careless fingers as you walk past. Everything is damp from weeks of rain, smelling of wet earth and growing things.

Then you get inside, and everything smells exponentially more damp.  Continue reading