Google: Relocating my family to Wales

I typed it in hoping to read about someone elses experiences, some support, someone mad enough. Nothing.

So this is it. If you are considering quitting your job, leaving everything you know, relocating your family to the depths of Wales (or anywhere for that matter) I am your guinea pig.

If it all ends in disaster you can take comfort in the fact that you aren’t that mad woman who relocated her family to a country she’d never been to.

It was a friday evening after work. Instead of the usual bedtime routine we put the kids in their pyjamas and bundled them into the car.

As they slept my husband David drove. We were excited, apprehensive, tired of working to pay our mortgage. So this was it, us going in search of an alternative. Something we’d dreamt of for sometime.

We crossed the Severn bridge in darkness and couldn’t see a thing. I was tired and the doubts crept in. Is this crazy? We love our lives in England, our family there, our friends.

We arrived at the holiday cottage. The owners had left it open for us. We put the children to bed and my head hit the pillow wondering if it had finally lost the plot.

“It rains in Wales” family had said in shock on hearing our news. That first morning it poured and as I looked out the window and thought of loved ones so did I.

I focused on the dream. Greater freedom, more time together. I focused on the house viewings we’d arranged for that day.

We spent the day exploring Haverfordwest. The hub of Pembrokeshire with it’s transport links, jobs, english schools etc

We were surprised by how much space you got for your money. Room to accommodate children and visiting family. Our minds boggled at the fact we could actually buy a house outright.

And yet it was as though I viewed those houses and first glimpses of Pembrokeshire through a riot shield. I didn’t want to get too close. Back at the cottage we talked into the night, my worries whirling out of control.

“We haven’t even seen Pembrokeshire yet!” Came my husband’s reply. He was right we’d arrived in the dark and only seen the inside of houses.

Sunday was solely reserved for meeting Pembrokeshire and wow did it make an impression! As the sun shone over it’s rugged coastline and we drove all the way up to St David’s my heart sang.

What I hadn’t expected was to be reminded of my birth country Luxembourg. I found it in the painted houses, wind turbines and unusual national language.

David’s grandmother had wanted to move to Wales after falling in love with St David’s and here we were feeling the same.

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