Ok, so you may have come to the conclusion that the last road bump of the sick child back in October was the final straw for and I packed up my kit bag and fled the world... well I thoroughly well did not - even though I wanted to!
I honestly thought people were being ridiculous about moving house. Come on, how hard can it be? You have a massive clear out, put the rest of it into boxes, ask a couple of nice men to trundle down the road to drop them off then you crack a bottle open and put everything back in the relevant furniture or shelves. WHAT? That isn't what happens? Apart from the bottle opening - there has been a lot of self medicating going here recently but into tumblers, wine glasses haven't been unpacked and frankly don't hold the required amounts to get me through this. Oh and the removal men were wonderful - clearly they are used to dealing with flagging women who just want to sit down and cry. They even gave me a cream egg!
I can't pass on any nuggets of advice it would be pointless - I never listen to my own advice so why should you?