Not picky

I'd gone to bed feeling decidedly ropey and tossed and turned all night, but in the end it was the Boy who first thing this morning threw up all over the kitchen floor. This, in addition to the snow now standing a foot deep round the house and no sign of the driveway clearing contractor, didn't make for a promising start to our removal day.

But it could have been much worse. The overnight winter storm didn't hit our area with nearly the force that it had the Mid-West - yes, it was blowy and snowy, but it didn't live up to the dire predictions. The removal men were still able to get to us safely, and the Man managed to clear the drive himself with a shovel in time for their arrival (in fact he finished just seconds before the contractor turned up with the snow-plow).

By the time the van was loaded ready to go over to the new house (where the Man had once again been valiantly shovelling snow off the drive) the Boy had rallied and was able to come along and 'help' with the unloading process.

In fact he spent the couple of hours there running madly round every room, and as he proudly pointed out later he was 'so excited I didn't pick my nose at all!' Lovely.

The Girl has a lilac bedroom, the Boy has space for his trains, the Man has a 'den' and I have a crafty corner. So we're all very happy with the house. It is light and bright and spacious and will be easy to live in, with plenty of room for guests (take that as an invitation, friends and family).

Now, just the small matter of two hundred boxes to unpack...