We landed in Santiago de Compostela at 1.30pm on Thursday 12th July. We have been living in Spain for six days. I am still not sure that we are really here.
I awake in the morning, and I hear only birds. No neighbour sounds, no trains, no cars. I step outside and I see storks flapping above their nests. I walk up the lane with the dog, and I pick bay-leaves from the trees; sample an early-ripened raspberry.
The sun goes down later; she takes longer to sink into the blue-grey-green on the misty-distant mountains.
Work has started on the garden clearance. Contractors have come to the house to measure and quote the cost of their labour, which will transform this dusty, neglected house into a light-bright, dynamic B&B business, and our new home.
We have met new friends. We have a bowl of apples on our dresser, gifted by neighbours. We have a vase of flowers from our new garden on our kitchen table.
We are not “there” yet. But the journey has begun.
