This is a funny, entertaining and brutally honest novel (inspired by the author's real-life experiences) that charters the trials and tribulations of a married female same-sex retired couple who up sticks and move to west Wales to grow vegetables, garden, photograph wildlife and just be themselves far from the madding crowd.

They had visions of sunny days lounging in their huge garden sipping gin and tonics in floaty dresses and straw hats. The reality could not have been further from the truth. From the stresses of moving, meeting the neighbours, coming to terms with the Welsh weather, the worries and escapades of being the owner of dogs (and later, pasta-loving chickens!) and embracing a completely new ... slower-paced but nonetheless with its own brand of chaos ... life.

Anecdotes come thick and fast. The couple have to face huge obstacles during the early days of their new rural Welsh life. The worst being the terrible flood that occurs after just ten months into their new home and completely ruins the whole ground floor of the cottage. This combined with coping with rheumatoid arthritis and the horrific five years previous to their move which brought insurmountable tragedy and grief ... they could easily have crumbled.

However, this book is testament to their great spirit and is a heart-warming example of just how different life can be if you can focus on the silver linings at every (well, perhaps, most) junctures.

Anyone (and particularly retirees) who has relocated and had to settle into a new home, town or county will find much to glean from this story.

Sample Chapters

Chapter One

The removal manager stood in the kitchen of our old house in a posh suit with a posh voice and reassured me I needed his companies services because of my previous hideous experiences and that with his company our move to Wales would be seamless. His company he said, had a branch in Swansea, a team of men would meet the two chaps driving down all our worldly goods and the whole process would run like clockwork.

I believed him.

The whole job was to take a week with a 'team' of men coming on the Monday to start the packing and loading, returning on the Tuesday to leave us with the bare essentials and then Wednesday, moving day we would be out before we knew it. On arrival the 'team' from Swansea would meet us at the property and everything would be a positive experience from start to finish.

I believed him.

We had found after searching for over a year our dream cottage in the countryside in Carmarthenshire. It was the quintessential chocolate box house, built in 1840. An acre of land surrounded it on both sides, this was full of trees, hornbeams, white willows, silver birch all standing in an enormous lawned area and borders stacked with various plants. A large stream flowed through part of it and to crown it all a Dovecote, built in 1760, stood proudly in the back of the garden near the vegetable plot which was to be my domain. It was beautiful. It was in a valley with far reaching views of hills and forests. Our nearest neighbour was across the private lane we were situated on but not visible from our cottage, the other neighbour was about two hundred yards further down the lane. We were overjoyed with our find, especially as we had lost two other houses through no fault of our own and thought we would never match them. This cottage turned out to be better than both proving that all good things come to those who wait.

So the first day of our moving week arrived. We got up bright and early awaiting 'the team' but unfortunately due to traffic they would be delayed and arrive about half past nine. Never mind, these things happen we told ourselves.

So the team arrived, and I use the term loosely as it consisted of just two men. One who was mainly to do the packing and the other was coming with us to Wales as he was the driver. I shall call them packer and driver for the sake of this narrative.

So Driver goes upstairs to start packing the forty pairs of shoes that Helen owns and the multitude of clothes she possesses. In fairness a lot of these clothes were her sisters but its fair to say she does have a clothing and shoe fetish irregardless.

Mean time Packer starts in the kitchen. If it wasn't nailed down it was going in a box and even if it was nailed down it may well be jemmied into submission and end up in a box anyway. I actually found him at one point packing a half eaten lemon drizzle cake in a plastic cake container. He seemed very surprised when I asked him to leave the cake out so we could actually eat it

The speed at which he packed was phenomenal, frighteningly so. I ended up surreptitiously trying to spy on him and counting the dogs to make sure they were still there. We have two dogs by the way, Flo a Boxer, soft as butter and an attention seeker. Phoebe is of uncertain origin but came to us via Greece as she is a rescue dog. Both girls are the same age and inseparable. Phoebe we think has Pointer/Foxhound origins as she stalks birds, squirrels, you name it Phoebe stalks it, even a half stuffed grey corduroy hippo with no legs gets the instinctive Phoebe treatment.

The Packer and the Driver left at four thirty after copious amounts of tea, cakes and biscuits and said they would try to be earlier the next day. We were not impressed but Helen and I are quite positive thinking people and tried to keep our spirits up.

The next day three men! Three men arrived! In my opinion it barely passes as a team but as I was loosing the will to live I felt stupidly grateful we had actually improved by one whole person.

The van started to be loaded and slowly but surely the house started to empty. Up until now I had always considered the home to be pristine. Not so. Once all furniture and pictures, rugs and ornaments have been removed all the crap shows. Out came the emulsion and poly filler, followed closely by the spray bleach. We fell into bed that night exhausted. Even my eyelashes hurt but we were buoyed on by the big day approaching and felt encouraged as our last night arrived and were keeping everything crossed, albeit painfully for a smooth move to Wales the next day.

All we were left with was our bed, the dogs beds and just a few items that still needed packing. The removal men didn't leave that day until about six o 'clock. I couldn 't sleep, Helen couldn 't sleep but by the law of sod we both drifted off at around half past five in the morning and overslept. Stupidly lulled into thinking the excitement of the move would ensure us waking early we didn 't set an alarm. It was a quarter to eight when we did wake up and we stumbled out of bed knowing the removal men were due in fifteen minutes.

Two men arrived, Driver and the third man. Both terrific hardworking men who did everything they could to give us a 'seamless' experience as promised by posh manager man, but it didn't happen, it couldn 't because it was just the two of them and there was only so much they could do in a given space of time. The management team let us and them down badly. I fell for his patter. There really is no fool like an old fool.

The van left at ten o 'clock and we finished off the cleaning and ensured all keys were lined up on the kitchen work surface clearly labelled, then after having said goodbye to our neighbours we finally got in our cars for the four and a half hour drive to our new life. I was to follow Helen 's car. I had picked up my Mum's ashes the day before and sat her in the front seat next to me with the seat belt wrapped around the dark red carrier bag containing the dark red cardboard box which contained all that was left of part of my heart.

The journey to Wales was uneventful apart from the very painful bladder syndrome you always get when you know you can't actually access a loo easily.We kept in contact via our handsfree phones so Helen and I were able to speak often. I watched Flo in the back of Helen 's car staring back at me, bemused as to why Phoebe and I were following them. We stopped after two hours for me to find a loo and Helen to have a Costa coffee to keep her alive and with a pulse. The dogs peed too so all was well or so we thought.

About halfway through our journey we received a phone call to say that the cottage was officially ours and completion had taken place. Great news! However, the next phone call was from our vendors estate agents to tell us they would not be finished moving out until mid afternoon. Not to worry we said, we wont be there until about half past three anyway. As it turned out it was four o 'clock and by then pitch black and raining heavily. We had never wanted to move in the winter.

We had put our house on the market in March to hopefully ensure a Summer move what folly!

After loosing two houses due to all the things that can go wrong during this ridiculous, painful, archaic process going wrong we ended up with Hobsons' choice and a winter move it was.

We arrived at the estate agents to pick up the keys only to find they had not been dropped off yet so we decided to drive to the cottage only to pass the vendors on their way to drop of the keys at the estate agents we had just left. After exchanging pleasantries in the pouring rain we finally got to open the door of our new home.

Having had the foresight to ensure we had the kettle, tea, milk etc we were able to sustain ourselves until three hours later when our furniture arrived. The rain by now was torrential and as there are no street lights the van stayed at the end of the lane as it is narrow and the driver was unsure if he could get as far as our house. However, assured by his co worker he could get part of the way we stood in the rain and cold watching whilst the lorry slowly inch by inch made its way nearer and nearer to us and got to our gate. We decided that all that was needed that night was our bed, so eventually, the bed in situ the men went off to find somewhere to park and sleep overnight in the purpose built cabin these huge lorries have for this very situation.

We did sleep this night and so did the dogs which was a worry we had both had, but they must have been as tired as us and having been fed and watered and their familiar bedding laid down for them, they seemed content and happy a bit like us two.

Chapter Two

The men arrived and after being fed scrambled eggs and toast they set to work. They were stupidly grateful we fed them! I really cannot believe that they were surprised I offered them food. Evidently they never get fed by the people they are moving. What do the these customers think these poor blokes exist on for a week? They went on to tell me that on an away job such as this one, most of any overtime or extra money earned is spent on feeding themselves at cafe prices.

They worked like stink. And to top it all Mr Posh manager man had rang and given them another job to do on their way home and even suggested they tried to finish our move today instead of tomorrow. I was starting to get a little cross by now (said the master of understatement) and eventually rang Mr Posh manager man and explained to him my exact feelings about his management skills and his integrity regarding the promises he makes to trusting, paying customers. I also reminded him that reviews on social media sites are read and asked him what he thought I should write. I gave him a gob full, a very controlled, assertive, non sweary gob full. It will make no difference to Mr posh manager but I certainly felt better and I could tell by the grins on our removal mens faces who had overheard some of the exchange that they felt vindicated also.

The day got longer and longer, the cottage got messier and messier and at nine o'clock the men had actually finished. The only room we could actually call partially habitable was one bedroom, the kitchen and half the lounge. One bedroom resembled a screen shot from Tetris with every possible shaped box crammed in to fit.

During this day we had a visit from our neighbour, the one down the lane. A beautiful human being called Trevor, he has the most wonderful broad Welsh accent and almost sings his way through each conversation. We had to admit to each other after he had left that we didn't understand some of his conversation but he come to ask if we needed any wood for the log burner, any food and when he found out I was hoping to keep chickens, he offered me three of his. Blown away by this strangers friendliness and generosity this experience gave another lovely layer to what was already proving to be our dream becoming a reality.

I think I would be foolish to believe that after everything that has happened in the last few weeks that sleep would come easy every night.

In the two weeks before this move I had I spent up to seven hours a day with Mum at the hospital, fortunately we were able to get her back to her wonderful care home two days before she died where she was looked after beautifully and I am indebted to those amazing women who looked after her for the rest of my life.

I then had to arrange the funeral and I even made the flowers for the coffin because I knew all Mum's favourite flowers and colours and I wanted it to be one of the last things I could do for her. Mingled in with all this was the exchange and subsequent mayhem that followed.

So going to bed exhausted is clearly not enough to guarantee a good nights rest, quite the opposite. Every time I shut my eyes the events of the last few weeks started a re-run in my head. It was like Groundhog Day without the jokes.

We spent the next day trying to make some sense of the multitude of boxes and trying to put together a home that we could relax in.

What surprises me above all is the enormous amount of paper that is used when packing. This paper is like white drawing paper you were given at school in my day at least and there were reams of it. I have since discovered that if you roll this paper up into sausage shapes they make the best fire starters. Therefore we are now the proud owners of enough paper fire starters to last us until Helen's 97th birthday in 2055. Bring a bottle.

Wearily we worked all day and gained a bedroom that actually looked like a bedroom. A kitchen that had things in the cupboards and a walk in larder that I am actually in love with, a sentence I never thought I would write and not forgetting three quarters of a living room. I actually mastered how to make a decent log fire in the burner, in fact so successfully the living rooms temperature and the surface of the sun actually were at the same level celsius at one point.

Another day of being very busy but we had time to look at our surroundings and pinch ourselves that we actually lived here amongst the hills and fields and abundance of birds. I stopped and looked at the sky and a Red Kite circled overhead occasionally mobbed by crows that were attempting to escort it off the premises but not succeeding, I didn't blame it for wanting to stay. The weather had started to turn cold, that type of cold that heralds snow and as we awoke the next morning the premise of snow was a reality and if possible everything looked even more beautiful than before.

Usually in Worthing on a Saturday Helen manages to find an excuse to either go to the 'large Tesco' in Durrington or if she really needs a proper fix for her long standing addiction she takes herself off to Holmbush where she can get a better quality hit.

However, a very different experience awaited her and as I drove the two and a half miles to the builders merchants (yes you read that right) and passed three cars. I wondered with trepidation if withdrawal symptoms would kick in and I would end up frantically searching for a 'proper shop' to stop her shakes and sweats. I needn't have worried. Gareth was the man of the hour. A quietly spoken gentleman who endeavoured to find us the best deals on everything we needed. What we needed was 300ft of chicken wire to attach to the existing wooden fence to stop Flo and Phoebe rampaging through West Wales and causing havoc and at worse end up being shot by some well within his rights sheep farmer!

When we asked Gareth for a companion set for our fire ie brush, poker, shovel etc. he informed us that there was some at his other shop in Lampeter and he would go get it and we could pick it up from his house that evening! He invited us to open an account and told us of a chap who would sort the fence out for us. He also told us that it never snows here. As he was speaking I found my gaze drifting off towards the window wondering what the white cold stuff was all over the place but, who am I to argue? We left without parting with any money and clutching the phone number for Fred the Fencer.

I rang Fred the Fencer when we got in and arranged for him to visit Monday, stressing it was urgent ... I have since come to learn that urgent here is within the next two weeks.

So we had until Fred arrived a potential escape plot problem being hatched by the dogs every time we let them out. In our infinite wisdom we decided when we got home that if Helen stood one side of our garden and I stood the other we could head off the dogs preventing them from going behind the cottage where the gaps in the fence were and therefore allow them off the lead to run with abandonment. Flo and Phoebe hurled themselves around the garden at breakneck speed. It warmed the cockles of my heart to see them so free and happy, that was until Flo spotted the 100ft gap that separated Helen and I and they both flew past us heading for infinity and beyond. Fortunately they were more interested in the stream that runs through our garden than the gaps in the fence and we managed, after running in circles for five minutes shouting 'Treat' and 'Cheese' to catch them.

At this point Trevor our lovely neighbour was feeding his one sheep and several geese and invited us to see his 'garden'. His 'garden' was three and a half acres and amazing. Broken up into woodland areas, formal flower beds and vegetable plots it was a wonderful walk around with our new friend listening to all the hard work he and his wife Jill had put into this land between them. We discussed the best tractor mower to buy, what crops grow well in this soil and left clutching armfuls of swede, kale and a very large marrow. Then within minutes of arriving home, Trevor arrived at ours with a large frozen ham and joint of pork for our freezer. So with me being vegetarian and Helen being a carnivore we both got a meal or three from this lovely man. The kindness of this stranger is overwhelming.

I lived in Worthing for three years and never felt part of it. After three days here I felt I was home. Wales I love you. We both feel blessed and every now and then we look at each other and the look is like the one kids have on Christmas Eve knowing tomorrow is going to bring joy.

Thicker snow had fallen overnight and was still falling in large flakes, covering the ground even further and dazzling us with its pure whiteness. Flo and Phoebe did not know what to make of it, they hared around the garden with absolute lunacy pasted across their faces. If dogs can laugh manically they did, a lot.

The surrounding countryside looked exquisite, coated in a white stillness that made even the most sparse of bushes take on a whole new beauty. The birds were diving in and out of the hedgerows trailing snowflakes in their wake, desperate for the food on the feeders and bird tables we had put out as a priority to ensure they could survive another day and night in this frozen environment that had suddenly been forced upon them

Our Sundays are imbedded in routine. On goes Radio 4 to listen to the Archers omnibus, followed by Desert Island Discs. These are our two Sunday morning ritualistic must hears. Even though we listen to the Archers every night, for some reason we also have to hear it again on Sunday. Helen scoffed at me when we first met for listening but is now as hooked as I am.

We decided it was time for the unpacking of the clothes. Gulp! Reader please be aware we are not speaking of a couple of suitcases here. Imagine a stock room filled with a cross between John Lewis, M & S, Debenhams and Primark women's wear and you have the perfect image of the contents of the boxes upon boxes of Helen's haute couture. Not being able to face it I left her to sort it out. I'm not one to colour code my clothes or hang all the trousers together. Mine tend to end up looking like the sale rail in Oxfam only messier.

I decided to try and clean the conservatory and bring some order to it. We have been using this to put the dogs in when anyone comes, feed them and also its been an access to get out to the garden, all of this has culminated in the floor resembling a pond when the liner has sprung a leak.

Being the sad individual I am I enjoyed this spring clean or should I say depth of winter clean and the room looked very organised and pristine when I had finished.

At this juncture you need some background information to enable the next little anecdote to make sense.

We have an antique old pine wardrobe. A triple one. Unfortunately we could not get it to fit in the bedroom as the little feet on it need to be removed. However all was not lost as it is easily disassembled. The top comes off, the whole bottom with drawers and the sides and doors can be removed. Helen in her infinite wisdom decided to put it together so at least we could hang clothes in it, this meant leaving the top bit off but just having the sides and doors on the base. I was heavily immersed in cleaning and mopping when I heard a small voice but desperate voice saying 'Hannah, Han, can you help me'?

Dropping mop and climbing the stairs I went into the bedroom that was the last place I had seen her. She wasn't there, so in confusion I wandered back into the landing only to hear her voice again 'Han, I'm in here'. Turning around and going back into the bedroom I happened to notice a little tuft of grey hair peeking above the wardrobe door. She had locked herself in the wardrobe. In her efforts to get the sides and doors on she had stood on the base and lifted them up in order to position them in the right place. Unfortunately the door had shut and left her on the inside, trapped. I like to say something like this was an unusual occurrence but she does seem to end up in countless 'pickles' as she calls them.

The day ended with all of the available hanging space hanging things and my allocated wardrobe colour coded with all the trousers hung together ... it won't last long!

Chapter Three

There was no snow overnight as we woke up to another day but a beautiful jigsaw puzzle blue sky and thick frozen snow underfoot. All seemed right with the world when we ran the dogs first thing that morning. Everything was wonderful and it wonderful it was until I ran the taps in the kitchen only to find the sink not draining. No matter I thought, I possess a sink plunger which just so happened to be out of its box and under the sink.

Positioning the plunger over the plug hole I plunged, and then I plunged again, only to find that the clear water that would not drain was now turning into a dreadful poo colour with a bouquet to match.

Desperately thinking that the more I plunged the better things would get I started to realise that the sink had a life of its own and was regurgitating the contents of its bowels back at me. Helen entered the kitchen oblivious to my plight until she came over to the sink to wash her hands and then fled in terror to the bathroom leaving me and the sink full of putrid water alone.

I stared at it for ages hoping by some miracle it would decide to retreat back to the depths of hell from whence it came but alas it remained content to keep me company.

I rang a couple of 'emergency' plumbers who sucked in through their teeth when I suggested I may need a visit the same day. The earliest they said would be after Christmas ???? Given no choice I rang Dynorod, £145 would be the charge and they would get to us at twelve thirty. It was nine o'clock. Grateful for small mercies I agreed and waited.

At twelve fifteen there was a knock on the door and I opened it fully expecting Dynorod man but there stood our Arc Angel Trevor resplendently dressed in a daft Christmas reindeer bobble hat. Behind him stood Dynorod man.

Trevor: 'Whats wrong'?

Me: 'The kitchen sink is full of poo type watery stuff and won't drain' Trevor: 'Why didn't you ask me? I have all the rods and everything'

I suddenly became aware that Dynorod man was looking a tad confused so I invited them both in and pointed to the sink and armed with a Henry Wet and Dry vacuum Dynorod man advanced upon the problem.

Trevor: 'Next time if you have a problem come and get me'. He looked hurt. I found myself apologising to him for not bothering him.

Trevor: 'Right get your coat on and boots and meet me outside'.

I wondered at this point if we were going to have a stand up fight and felt that at around six foot four and roughly sixteen stone he might have a small advantage over me. I duly dressed to find Trevor peering down our cesspit and when he saw me he started to explain how the sewage system of our house works. He then continued ...

Trevor: 'You are getting ripped off big time and I could do it for nothing'.

This man was genuinely upset that we hadn't felt we could ask him to clear our blocked sink. I again apologised profusely and promised him I would never, ever, ask anyone else ever again to do anything apart from him, ever.

Whilst we were still in the garden Dynorod man left saying all was well and clear and as he drove off Trevor and I stood and waved to him smiling as we did so.

'Bastard' said Trevor.

Helen and I decided to check out Llanfwr our local town. She needed the bank and we thought we would get a feel for the place that would soon become so familiar to us. After having bleached the sink and settled the dogs we got in the car and drove the 8.8 miles through winding roads that cut through white fields and snowcapped hills. More Red Kite circled overhead and sheep stared at us as we drove past, their coats still bearing the remnants of ice from the snowfall the day before.

Llanfwr is a picturesque town full of little shops selling wool and handmade jumpers, kitchenware, butchers displaying black Welsh beef in their shop windows. Bistro's scattered around and intermingled with traditional pubs and in the middle proudly stood the Town Hall. I felt like I was in Trumpton.

When Helen was dealing with her bank business and holding up the queue for ages I noticed not one person rolled their eyes or tutted. Instead of that they chatted amongst themselves and it transpired one of the queuers was the father of the bank teller so lots of banter was pinging backwards and forwards. They looked at me whilst they spoke as a gesture of inclusion and they made me feel like a local person, known for ages to them.

On the drive home we remarked how lovely the town was and above all friendly. No surprises there.

We had been back home about ten minutes when there was a knock on the door. It was another neighbour David. He came in and we all introduced ourselves. Trevor had told me about David. It transpires he was a Professor of Forensic Pathology up until his semi retirement. He had come over to say how sorry he was we had to pay out for the plumber this morning and he had written down four pages of useful local people who could do all manner of things should we need them. On the list amongst many others were the wood merchant, the local builder, a fencer, GP, Dentist, hospital, pharmacy and the like. He also gave us two tickets for free admission into the National Botanic Gardens of Wales and a potted history of the estate we lived on. He already knew we were interested in the acre of land abutting our property, one we had earmarked for an apiary and conservation area. Evidently were are not alone in our quest. Trevor wants it, he wants some of it and Lewis the farmer also would pitch in a bid for it.

When David left, Helen and I decided we would not be entering into a bidding war on a piece of land but did take on board that it would add substantial value to our house if we ever wanted to sell.

Later, as promised Fred the Fencer arrived to estimate the cost of the additional fencing we needed to dog proof the garden. Again he was lovely and friendly and in between cracking jokes and saying he could do the job on the 25th of this month (December) it was arranged he would be able to fit us in midway through January, before if possible. He also took back all the wire we had bought from Gareth and the tacks to exchange them for stock wire fencing which he said would be more appropriate. He would get it for us and stick it on our account.

Before we moved we were secretly worried that being a same sex couple and being English would be a problem to some people here in Wales in the middle of nowhere. Despite our belief that we deserved, like everyone else, a right to love and marry if we wanted to, we still were aware of ongoing homophobia and the rumours about the Welsh hating the English. So far so good.

One of the spare bedrooms, the Tetris room as previously mentioned had got away with being crammed to the rafters with boxes long enough and so Helen advanced upon it like an Amazonian warrior... well not actually an Amazonian warrior more sloth like and dragging herself slowly up the stairs in a worn out stupor.

I on the other hand felt the garage needed organising and I also couldn't find my electric drill and bits. It's what any sixty four year old woman longs for isn't it ?

The removal men had basically chucked everything that didn't have a definite home in the garage. To be fair this may have been due to me repeating the phrase 'In the garage' every time I was asked 'Where do you want this put love' ?

I opened the double doors of the chamber of horrors and looked at the devastation moving from Worthing to Wales and unloading in the semi dark had left. In addition to the never ending boxes were garden furniture, ladders, plastic boxes of Helen's dad's tools and miscellaneous stuff that had not been used for the last thirty years and by my reckoning will never be used again but we wont throw it away as it may come in handy one day.

I decided the best tactic was to firstly make enough space for me to get in the door. Always a good idea I thought. It actually turned out to be quite a satisfying task. After about two hours of pushing and shoving the garage actually looked acceptably tidy. I went back into the cottage to see how Helen was getting on tackling Tetris room fully expecting to find her fast asleep on the landing.

I got to the bottom of the stairs and found the whole of the stairs covered in flattened boxes and stacked about four foot high. She had done brilliantly! The Tetris room had a floor and walls! I never knew.

By mid afternoon we had got to the point where we could put up the spare bed. It's a heavy old oak one and has the headboard and footboard attached by two wooden struts each side that bolt on and another that runs through the middle. Side struts duly found however it appeared the middle bit and bolts were missing. The next hour consisted of us pulling the house to bits to find a six foot long wooden strut with heavy nuts and bolts taped to it. The newly tidied garage got another once over but to no avail.

Time to phone the removal company. They must rue the day I hired them. I was put through to anther manager and after explaining about the missing bed bit he telephoned the driver and the second removal man but neither of them knew where they had put it. Great. Love it when things go so smoothly.

We are going to pull the garage and shed to bits tomorrow to ensure the piece isn't hiding in them sniggering at us every time we walk past or open the doors to stare into the vast area of junk scratching our heads in bewilderment.