Every so often, I collect up the mail from my aunt's house and deliver it to my cousin for processing. Today was such a day.
He lives on an estate that was built in the era when architects were beginning to create roads that went here there and everywhere. My daughter and I have a game that is nothing more than my claim that I can get to my cousin's house in one go. She doubts my abilities and is usually right. It can sometimes take an hour to reach the address in question, a journey that would otherwise be no more than ten minutes from the motorway.
My cousin is in the garden at the back of his house. We chat for a while, and then I ask him if he had received my email.
'Yes' , he says, ' I had rather hoped it would be possible for you to move out at the end of August so we can use the Bank Holiday weekend to get everything ready for the Estate Agents.'
This was not what I had hoped to hear. My hope had been that I could have stayed on a while longer as a caretaker. On the other hand, my aunt needed to sell it and she had been very kind to me. This would render me homeless once more. Now I was in unchartered territory. This could get scary.
My cousin's words were a real sucker punch - but I don't blame him at all, he has been more than reasonable and generous.
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