Nearly there...

With the stress of our major exodus from the UK fresh in our minds we arrive in Girona. Two worn-out parents fast approaching middle age and feeling the strain plus two very excited little girls. The physical, emotional and mental challenge (not to mention financial) of actually lifting our lives up and out of England and plonking everyone down again (via Ryanair) in a new country is not wasted on us at this stage. No doubt more challenges will present themselves to us which we will share with you as they arise.

The run up to the move had snowballed out of control as we began to run out of time. Whilst not being the most organised people on earth we had managed to store a few pieces of furniture we felt were worth keeping and prepare a load to be shipped in the not too distant. With the help of my wonderful mother we managed to clean the house we had been staying in and leave it in reasonably good order.

What we had not realised was just how much stuff/crap we had accumulated over our lifetimes and what couldn't be traded on ebay or at carboot sales was given away to friends, family, charities and, in the end, literally anyone who just happened to be passing. Hard and sometimes painful decisions had to be made and I've just had to get over the separation anxiety! It was a case of " we can't move it, store it or have it, so just go take it!!" To think these things I have coveted, cherished and enjoyed were now just gone.

Whilst we had prepared for this trip years in advance (trying to learn a new language, talking, thinking about moving abroad plus a few reconnaissance trips) we had done little to start breaking down our belongings and we learnt the hard way. Typically of us, we also had to cram in distracting things we always meant to do in the past but had never not got round to. Things like study courses, check ups, catching up with people etc. because it dawned on us that we would not be around to do them in the future. All this and continuing to work as much as possible with the knowledge that our income was going to drop dramatically. Of course the regular demands of family life didn't make preparations easy either.

Believe it or not we even had to fit in a trip to Boston which I had won in a competition. It was a case of lose it or use it which was extremely nice but the last thing we needed at this stage - Yes, I know it sounds a little churlish and ungrateful but just goes to show you should plan for any eventuality! So, a tip for all you future relocators - If you can, plan the move with exacting precision years in advance of your leave date and have everything in order well before D-Day.

It has been a cathartic experience and it was not lost on me that at this very same time there were the families in Lebanon who were leaving their bombed homes with very little in the way of possessions. Of course, our upheaval was a voluntary and positive one, not the enormously fearful experience of these people so it has been a humbling one for us also.

Despite packing our luggage and thinning it down over and over to what we thought was just the necessary we were still charged for extra weight on our checked-in luggage which is easy to do with Ryanair. As my husband had insisted we use our hand luggage allowance to the full limit we ended up looking like refugees with rather more than we could handle (we didn't know it yet but we were to lose one item of hand luggage and neither of us can think where we left it). We had to be pretty inventive with our carry-on stuff and it took some convincing of UK airport security that our five year old really does need a holdall carrying a kettle, an apple mac and hair straighteners!!

We were not overly popular with the holiday makers on our packed-out flight as we hogged all the overhead storage space! Since our arrival in Girona a security upgrade at airports and banning of hand luggage has meant we wouldn't have even got on the flight with our very good impression of a bunch of sherpas! I know my bad back, stretched arms and frayed nerves would have appreciated this new ruling.

It was strange on that flight out of Stansted. There was all that delicious "we are all going on a summer holiday" feeling bubbling in the climatised, cabin air and there we were, our little family with our one way tickets. I felt secretly smug that we wouldn't be returning to the UK in a couple of weeks with that "the holiday is over, we've blown all our dosh and have to get back to work with just a suntan to show for it" feeling which I know so well. Actually, what's ahead of us is far more scary, tough even, but also new, exciting and wonderful.