So finally it’s here. After 17 years of cajoling and numerous trips to abandoned buildings, Rich and I have four days to ship out of our beautiful Bakehouse and start a new adventure. Actually, that’s not strictly true. The hubster, in true boy-style, is actually off doing the Tour Britannia, while I finish off moving. That’s true love. (But it will cost him at a later date…)
We saw the Fenbilly Farm in March last year. After years of nagging our friendly estate agent (that’s you Chris Woodford) and a chance meeting in the butchers, Chris said those fabulous words, ‘It may be a bit of a long shot but there’s a place coming to auction that might well suit.’ Any excitement was quickly dampened with the following line, ‘It is out in the Fens though.’
No offence intended to anyone who already lives there but the Fens, if you’ve ever been, is not really where you want to be setting up your dream home. When we bought The Old Bakehouse, ten years ago, I’d found the ideal home – Victorian farmhouse, totally restored, 18 acres, tennis court, swimming pool, etc etc for about £35. I exaggerate, it was probably closer to £30. Rich refused to go and have a look but one Sunday, I drove out to ‘Gedney Hill’ to see if I could view it from a distance. I never did make it, having made the schoolgirl error of thinking that the clue was in the name. The Fens wasn’t for us.
‘But it doesn’t really feel Fen-like’ laughed Chris, ‘I was surprised and really rather liked it, just go and have a look.’ Now if you know Chris, he’s not really a bullshitter. Even though he is an estate agent 😉 When he sent some photos later in the day, I got a bit excited, showed Rich, he sighed and said let’s go and look (it was probably an easier option than the ‘what if’ scenario) and so we arranged to go and see it later in the week. And that’s where it all started.