Claire, Sam and I have been in the process of moving house for the best part of a year now. We started looking for possible houses in winter, found one, sold our house, had to pull out of the purchase for planning reasons, found a better house to buy, lost our buyers (gits) and then found new buyers over that period.
Finally, we exchanged contracts on Friday afternoon, after a week of trying to do so. Solicitors have no sense of urgency and would, it seems, rather go shopping for the afternoon than complete the contract exchange up the chain. In the end we booked removals for the provisional date before we had actually exchanged contracts, which was a bit of a gamble but we had no choice if we wanted to get a van.
So now we're actually finally definitely totally absolutely surely positively moving on Thursday this week. We have a house full of boxes and we now need to knuckle down and get packing, before embarking on the long journey of three miles to March House (sounds posh but used to be called Marsh House which doesn't sound as posh).
Ooh - and something slightly ironic - the people who were going to buy this house and pulled out for no reason have now moved into the house down the road. It's a rubbish house compared to ours. Serves them right.