‘I think my daughter goes to nursery with your daughter’, I say. ‘Oh right’, the woman says looking me over, ‘Are you on holiday here?’ ‘No we’re travelling and working remotely (well I’m doing the travelling and John’s doing the working but why go into detail?). We’ve rented a house in the village,’ I tell …

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It’s way, way, way more expensive than you think it’s going to be. Not like when you go to Ikea and can’t understand how a plastic collander, some plants, a shower curtain, two mugs and a hanging storage container has come to £112.56 (£113.55 once John has bought himself a reconstituted hotdog). Nor like Paris …

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I was talking the other day in a post about the sense of community we’re finding just as we leave – remember the jazz dancing neighbours spinning off lamp posts and the pimping out I’m doing of John? – in a similar way, just as I resign and prepare to bugger off for a rather …

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