Last night we went for a drink at our old house. We were both more than a bit wary of returning and seeing all our hard work in other peoples' hands.
She's a lovely house but now we know what a rare thing she is. How rare is the glorious view over your own fields, peace and quiet. How well done up she is.
We sat in the garden and insisted that it was fine, she was too big for us, we wished we had found somewhere else but hey. Of course it didn't matter that the garden was full of weeds, how could it not be when they weren't there most (or any) of the time. A lot of the gaps were because of the extreme cold in the winter. (And the french gardener who has pulled out every self seeding cosmos, cornflower, nasturtium, forget me not and left gaps he will be paid to keep clear.)
The thing that really got me was the spotless white downstairs loo - that worked perfectly with toilet paper,basin, soap, towel - I could have sat there for days.