🫠 The Chain Collapses

A Nomad Plan Update

Hello Restless Wonders,

Greetings from the shire, where we’re at the end of another blustery week, the trees are getting more naked by the day and everything is starting to feel wintery already.

We’ve been oohing and arring our way through the surrounding fireworks night celebrations — the review of which from Jupiter (aged 2) was that ‘Fireworks make pretty pictures, but they’re very loud.’

I said a few weeks back that some things had gone belly up with our plans to sell our home before our nomad travels. I thought it was time to fill you in on the details.

There’s a paywall on this post because it’s mighty personal.

If you’re a free subscriber and want a read this week - all 100 (!) of my past posts, stories and essays are here on the Restless Mumma homepage. Scroll to a title section and hit ‘view all’.

For now, here’s what’s been going down in McTown. With our finances. Our master plan. And what the heck-a-doodle we’re going to do now.

Thanks, as always, for hanging out with me in this little corner of the internet.

✌🏻Catch you next week,

Anna xxx

The Chain Collapses

It’s Monday afternoon, and I’m walking back from having dropped off all the kids at Nanny Annies for the afternoon. Jamie is on his way home from London, where he’s been recording an interview for a podcast. I’m feeling a wee bit twitchy about our upcoming nomad travel plans so, around doing the recording, he said he would make a few calls to solicitors and estate agents to help us get a better idea of when our house sale might go through.

Obsessing over plans is one of my happy places — because, dang, I just love to daydream. But over the past few weeks, I’ve had to hold myself back. I’ve not let myself drift into any of the worldschooling forums or read about the places we’ll be visiting in Thailand.

I’m not researching runs I could be doing up in the mountains or looking (for the tenth time) at how the clouds reflect in the pool of the budget hotel we’ll land in initially. I’m not allowing any of it because nothing is set in stone.

The reality is, I still need to sort out our visas. To do that, I need to book flights and finalise accommodation. And for that, I need a (rough) completion date for the house sale.

When I get back to the house from my walk, I open the door and step over a big A4 wodge of an envelope on the doorstep. It’s a draft exchange contract. Hurrah!

This gets me excited. We’re so close!

I needn’t be in limbo any longer — another week or two and this will all be a done deal — with everything neatly sorted, our house packed up and us moved out, just before we leave. After months of paperwork, solicitors, surveys and searches, the contract on the doormat is something concrete at last. It’s a relief.

The Mega-Plan

Let me shimmy things into reverse and catch you up on the ins and outs of what we’re planning to do on the house-selling front.