goblincollective

Moving To Scotland : Part Two

Welcome back, gentle reader and settle in to hear the tale of Our Move To Scotland, Part Two: The Exhaustening.
If you missed part one, it’s available here.

Day Two dawned, grey and muggy. By now the girls and Gary were waking up in Edinburgh whilst Zoe, Sammi and the cats had just set off on an intrepid car journey across the UK, too exhausted to feel that emotional about leaving London.
Andy has been left behind to supervise the second day of loading stuff into the moving van before setting off on the train.

Just before the car left our main removal person, Colin, had arrived with the van and confided that it was making a “funny noise” and he was concerned about it getting to Scotland in one piece. A great way to begin, we’re sure you’ll agree.

However there was little to be done about it, so Sammi and Zoe set off, having got Andy’s promise to update us on the progress of the move.

We’d just gotten too far up the road to turn around and come back when Zoe suddenly exclaimed “Oh dear. I’ve still got Andy’s train tickets.”

The first of the day’s panics ensued as we recalculated how much later our route would be if we turned around, gazing at the traffic jams choking up the roads on the homewards side of the motorway and hurriedly checking ticket websites. Eventually we had to admit defeat and call Andy to tell him to book new tickets.

This turned out to be the first of many phone calls pinging back and forth over the day, including:

“Three men have shown up to help, yay! I’ve given them tea and biscuits, is this right?”

“The cleaners are here early, there may be a turf war brewing between them and the movers. Worried!”

“P’s had a bit of break down on a litter tray break once she clocked the other cars moving and now she’s tried to bury herself under the pot plants”

“The van’s noises are getting worse, we think it might be broken but Collin says not to worry!”

“Something’s up with Rocky, he’s doing this sad howling thing. We don’t know what he wants!”

“Things have really sped up now we have a full crew of workmen, we might even get back on schedule if we can get the van going!”

“Disaster, Collin has just got pinged on the track and trace app. He needs to go into isolation for eight days and they need to find a new driver. Maybe worry again!”

“On the bright side, the movers and cleaners seem to be forming some sort of flirtatious coalition, there is harmony in the house…..”

“We know what Rocky wanted! We tried letting him out to see if he would stop howling and he’s just curled up to watch the lorries go by and now he’s super chill…..also possibly stoned”

“The van has maybe been fixed, but Colin can’t drive it so it’s being driven to Luton now, to someone who can take over. They can’t tell us when they’ll arrive at the new house, it won’t be tomorrow though, like we planned. We are totally off schedule. Erk”

As the hours passed it was clear how helpless we were in the whole situation, we could do little to affect things, all we could do was try to keep stress levels down, laugh and keep positive.

(Of course, at the same time that all this drama was going down, Sun Queen and Moon Queen were enjoying multiple ice creams at the beach, living their best lives with nary a thought to their beleaguered grown ups.)

As the second day came to a close the car pulled up in Edinburgh and Zoe and Sammi were reunited with the rest of the clan at Hilary and Stephen’s temporary flat. The original plan was to stop here overnight and move into our house the next day but it was clear now we might need to make this our base of operations for a longer period.

Andy was still in London, having finally wrapped up loading and shutting the door for the final time on Hartington Road. He would join us the next day, if he could figure out how to drop the keys to our now shut estate agent….

Day Three: a call came from the moving company to say the van would hopefully be in Scotland the next day (day 4). It would be driven by a new driver and we needed to be there to meet it or else be charged a fine for keeping them waiting!

So we used the day to gather energy (especially Sammi who was still suffering tonsillitis), gather Andy from the train station and early the next morning we left the girls to have another day at the beach as we set off at a pace to North Berwick, eager to be on time for our van.

Halfway to North Berwick, Zoe realised that she’d left the house keys inconveniently in the flat back in Edinburgh.

So back we went once more!

And back again we drove, slightly panicked and against the clock.

We arrived fifteen minutes late, expecting scowling faces and penalties, only for the van to not be there at all! It gave us enough time to run like excited children through the house (or in Sammi’s case, gently wheezing through it) and see our new rental* home for the first time. It really struck us how much of a crazy gamble this had been, agreeing to move to these places off of photos. How lucky we were that the house was more beautiful and even bigger than we expected. Our heads were immediately filled with thoughts and ideas of where to put things and future plans and possible visits from friends and family, for the first time it really seemed real. We were here, this was our home!

And if you stood outside, looking in the right direction on tip-toes, you could see the sea!

The van pulled up and the only person to get out was Rob, an impressively brawny man from Aberdeen. Unfortunately, even he was going to struggle unloading the entire van without extra workers, of which there were none. He called the depot and discovered that the office had forgotten to confirm with the agency hired for extra staff during the pandemic, so the men hadn’t been sent out.

Curses.

We began unloading and made as much progress as we could and after an hour or two the cavalry arrived in the form of two extra men to help us unload but even with the extra hands it became clear that we’d really pushed ourselves to the limit. Long days of physical activity, fast food choices and poor sleeping had really taken their toll and Sammi’s tonsillitis was proving harder and harder to push through. So the final stage of unloading and unpacking enough essentials to be able to stay in the house took a couple of very long days.

But we’d done it. Everyone was here, more or less intact. And now we had our temporary homes and our stuff sat strangely in the new environment.

The cats were released into the house to prowl around sniffing and yelling and we left them in peace.

As things calmed down we wandered to the beach as a group, slightly stunned at all that had happened and the glorious views before us. Drifting along in a daze, murmuring how grateful we felt and how tired we were but wildly happy to have made it.

We found the harbour, we found fish and chips (another poor food choice perhaps, but delicious) and we gazed out to sea.

And that, gentle reader, is how we moved to Scotland.

* We have moved to Scotland before our new-build home is ready to be lived in! This sounds crazy right? Except we wanted to be in Scotland in time for the new school year, starting in August, to give the girls as much of an easy transition as possible. Therefore, we’re renting a place until November, hopefully!

Moving To Scotland : Part One

Settle in, gentle reader, and let us tell you the tale of our quest to move all our stuff (and all of us) to Scotland!

We begin several weeks before the move, as we gathered for a farewell feast in our back garden. Hilary and Stephen’s adventure northwards was imminent, they had spent the day with a team of four movers who had loaded their stuff onto the van and all was ready for them to set off.

We would be using the same removal company and were keen to gather information on what to expect. The biggest concern was that in the speed (and number of people) packing they had missed a couple of things, and there was a certain amount of confusion about them leaving a box in the middle of the kitchen and setting off without it.

We adjusted our plan to leave before the movers finished, agreeing that Andy would be left behind to supervise and ensure that nothing was missed, following on a day later on the train.

We were prepared, we knew what to expect. This was the first step towards huge change, real and tangible and no longer just a pipe dream. Surely nothing could go wrong?

After a manic week of goodbyes for the children (a subject for a future blog post we think) the girls were packed up and waved off in the company of Gary, to take the train up to Edinburgh. Zoe (partly out of forward planning, partly out of guilt) had managed to get 1st class tickets, so we knew they’d arrive in style and, hopefully, with Gary’s sanity intact.

This left three adults in the London house; Sammi, Zoe and Andy, all able bodied and eager to get to grips with the move.

And then the rains came…

The skies opened and in the space of a few hours Walthamstow received unprecedented amounts of rainfall. It fell in thick sheets that quickly went from a welcome relief to the sticky humidity to a deluge that flooded many roads, gardens and some houses.

Zoe’s lived in Walthamstow for fifteen plus years and has never seen the like. It was a stark reminder of climate change and the fact that much of our area is on a flood plain (another reason for moving to higher ground).

Our neighbours went out to sweep water towards drains or unblock them. Local Whatsapp groups began to fill up with shocking pictures of buses ploughing through deep water. People started requesting water pumps and help rescuing pets. We could do very little around our packing, except keep an eye on our increasingly waterlogged garden and hope.

And then Sammi began to feel rather under the weather herself. The day of the move came and along with it came full blown bacterial tonsillitis, making it difficult for her to get out of bed let alone dismantle it.

She was struggling to speak so Andy leapt into action, trying to wrangle a phone appointment with a doctor, ANY doctor. This included calling 111 (as he was recommended) and having to explain that Sammi couldn’t wait for an appointment in a week as she wouldn’t be living here in a week!

A doctor was found, a prescription obtained. All we had to do was go out and fetch the antibiotics and we could start to get Sammi back on track, or at least able to speak again. Off Andy went and back Andy came, empty handed, having tried three pharmacies, discovering that there was an area-wide shortage. Waily waily waily!

By this point two movers had arrived and were attempting to cure Sammi with jokes and home (TCP based) remedies. She tried her best but became more unwell as the day went on, having to curl up in various spots around the house, unable to communicate outside of hand signals.

The two movers were fronted by the most Scottish man we’d ever met. named Colin. Both men were amazing, hard working and fast. It was great, except for the fact that we were expecting three to four workers. Four adults and two children generate quite a lot of stuff. This could have been down to a poor estimation on the part of the person who’d come to quote for the move, or because of staff shortages from the “pingdemic”. Either way, Colin suggested that it would be a difficult job to get us packed up on schedule. Erk!

The movers plunged into a flurry of activity and sweat. We plunged into a flurry of activity, trying not to worry. Andy went on a series of runs to the tip. Zoe went on a noble quest to try and find the elusive antibiotics. Sammi tried to find a quiet corner to die in.

Can we just remind you, gentle reader, that whilst the grown ups were suffering and panicking, our two young snotlings were enjoying a 1st class beverage. Sun Queen dreamily gazing out of the window at the scenic view, whilst Moon Queen tried to noisily befriend a hungover teenager who was trapped on the train with her. The little “darlings”.

Somehow we all got through the day. Medicine had finally been found further afield, the lorry was semi-packed and we lay around in a daze, feeling slightly freaked out by our half empty house. Our thoughts moved to the next steps in the plan…

Next to leave would be Sammi, Zoe, the cats and a jungle of houseplants stuffed into the boot of the car. They would be driving from London to Edinburgh in one crazed stint (hopefully without tonsillitis induced car crashes). They planned to start early in the morning (before the movers got in). If they were lucky it would take them 8-10 hours with breaks.

Our vets had recommended some light sedatives to feed the cats in order to make the journey less stressful for them, which seemed like a fantastic idea. All we had to do was convince the cats to eat two pills, which would surely be easy because the pills were tiny and we had watched at least a couple of YouTube videos explaining how to do it.
Piece of cake right? Riiight?

Gentle reader, a piece of cake it was not.

What followed was an epic saga of stress and angst as we vainly tried to burrito our cats and took turns to feed them rapidly dissolving tablets, at least one of which was then vomited back up again. The cats resisted, the humans suffered, pills were spat across the room with impressive force. It did NOT go well.

Nevertheless, early the next day, confined into their kitty-prisons, P and Rocky were bundled into the car along with the jungle, a litter tray and as much coffee as possible.

With Zoe at the helm, Sammi still struggling to remain upright, two protesting felines (and Andy’s train tickets for his journey the next day..oops) they set off, waving an emotional goodbye to 112 Hartington Road and Walthamstow.

Here with everyone but Andy (who now had no train tickets) on their way to bonnie Scotland we will leave you, tune in next time, when for surely nothing else will go wrong…

Who We Are And Why We’re Goblins

Before we venture onwards, gentle reader, it feels right to introduce ourselves and to explain why we’ve slapped the label of “goblin” around the place.
Just to be polite.

To be called a “goblin” in our household is more or less a badge of honour.
It describes delightfully gross, mischievous or otherwise acceptably* naughty behaviour, though behind the fun is a slightly more serious tone.

We know that society expects girls to be well-behaved, mild and frankly, boring. We want our two awesome female children to understand their own worth and joyfully take up space. So we encourage them (and ourselves) to embrace their wild, loving, rascally selves and as such, we are raising some very gobliny babes.
And they are being brought up by some very gobliny grown ups, as you’ll discover.
But who are we?

Sun Queen – the eldest child. Incredibly kind-hearted, gentle and sensitive by nature. She has a vivid imagination and a talent for storytelling. When left to her own devices she often enjoys turning cardboard, string and other household items into a variety of fascinating treasures.
Goblin Tendencies: loves fart jokes and shiny beads. Makes potions out of snail slime and whale butter. Once left a collection of blown up gloves filled with an unknown liquid in the bath, we still don’t know why.

Moon Queen – the youngest child. Rambunctious, deeply extroverted and brimming with gumption. She loves making new friends and play-fighting with her dad. We hope this may translate into a love of sports or a black belt in later life.
Goblin Tendencies: Moon Queen is pretty much 100% goblin and we can’t do much about it. She will fart on you whilst shrieking with laughter, get ice cream in your facial hair and will eat anything off the floor. Constantly sticky.

Gary aka The Dad – long-suffering husband of Zoe. Gary is the primary reason why the children are still alive, he is a living subversion of parenting gender roles, a stable foundation the rest of the mania is built upon. Enjoys having vendettas and a steadfast refusal to let go of a grudge.
Goblin Tendencies: wears long dead underwear, t-shirts and knows 101 gross mouth noises that he employs on a regular basis. Constantly threatens to eat children but this has never been verified.

Zoe aka The Mum – wife of Gary. Benevolent tyrant and fulcrum of the household. Scatter-brained, with a grand, magnanimous sense of generosity and a convincing aura of well-bred confidence.
Spends way too much time reading trash romance books and will often get verbally affectionate after she’s been fed. Cries when she wees.
Goblin Tendencies: has a pathological inability to tidy up after herself combined with a tendency to make more mess than is reasonable in any situation. A bit bitey. Considers mortal peril “a good learning opportunity” for the children. Occasionally goes Too Far.

Andy AKA Three Owls In A Mansuit – partner of Sammi. Reliable, sociable and chatty, he is often out with different groups of friends doing intensely nerdy stuff. Gradually learning to tolerate the children. Until recently the girls were convinced he was secretly three owls masquerading as a human man……
Goblin Tendencies: we’ve come to the conclusion that whilst he may dress up as a goblin, Andy is in fact a hobbit. He loves food, games and stories, and hates change (oh dear).

Sammi aka The Witch In The Attic – partner of Andy. Sammi is an agent of chaos, who on any given day can go from terrifying, to sweet, to pensive, to hilarious, to terrifying again. Any surface in her vicinity is in danger of being covered in paint. Often to be found wandering in nature with bits of foliage in her hair/pockets/bra.
Goblin Tendencies: A complete goblin. Shrieking, biting, potion making and general witchery, her bag is a home to much detritus and bits of dead animal. An instigator of pranks, will use your things… not always for their intended purpose.

Hilary AKA Grandma – mum of Zoe, wife of Stephen. Kind, soothing and warm, whose occasional flashes of irrationality are unfortunately hilarious. Hilary likes to spends her time seabathing, creating art, walking in nature and visiting interesting cultural places.
Goblin Tendencies: also probably a hobbit.

Stephen AKA Grandpa – dad of Zoe, husband of Hilary. Gentle, perceptive, very witty and deeply weird. Enjoys investigating cityscapes and making strange lino prints. Makes up stories for the children that feature sentient plates of spaghetti and a hero called Captain Murderer (Disney has yet to approach us for the rights).
Goblin Tendencies: has a love for the absurd, obscene and grotesque. Carries a big stick. Cultivates an aura of mild menace (probably something to do with being an ex-lawyer).

Rocky AKA The Handsome Prince – the first of our two cats. Rocky is our grown up rescue cat and possibly the most chilled out gentleman you could ever meet. At one of the girl’s birthday parties he voluntarily sat on the sofa surrounded by hyper four year olds being repeatedly poked in the face. He has no tail, we don’t know why.
Goblin Tendencies: will eat ANYTHING. Once brought home a snake, sadly dead.

Perdita AKA “P” – found wandering the streets as a stray kitten, she firmly attached herself to Sammi and has been following her around ever since. A cat of very little brain. Doesn’t really understand what food is. Often tries to bury her dinner in the solid stone floor.
Goblin Tendencies: screams for attention at 5am, no concept of bathroom privacy, passionate zest for hunting worms. Once brought home a massive, living toad.

Further Cast Members – In addition to these Goblins (who will eventually be living in the same vicinity) there is a beloved Irish Granny and Grandad Goblin, many aunts and an uncle goblin and heaps of friend goblins who come and stay with us – when it is not a global pandemic.

All have gloriously goblin tendencies including, but not limited to:

– Collecting exotic adventures and rare potions from their round the world adventures.
– Cooking bacon in their underwear.
– Attempting to “acquire” as many dogs as possible.
– Chasing children with a bullwhip – to the children’s delight (it was the 80s).
– One unnamed goblin once slept on a bed without sheets for three months.

Wish us luck for next week as we plunge headfirst into moving, more on that in the next post!

*unacceptable goblin behaviours are unkindness, cruelty, bad manners and unauthorised weapons in your school bag.

Welcome

“Oh so you do the whole morning with the girls do you? That’s nice of you!” he says, peering down at me over his mask in an approving sort of way.

I am making school-run small talk with another adult. We have both waved our children into the classroom and are making our way out of the playground. It’s been a normal day so far for me, and for many other 33 year old women like me. As usual I began by getting two little girls ready for school.

There is the daily indecision over what to have for breakfast, though one nearly always has peanut butter on toast and the other porridge (on Mondays we have pancakes). There is the badgering for manners, occasional dance-parties in the kitchen, spooky stories told at the table as I try to ingest as much coffee as possible and the daily struggle to get out the door on time.

I walk them the five minute trip down the road to school, sometimes leisurely, stopping to smell flowers or point at things we see, sometimes in a hurried march, clutching their hands to keep them from wandering off. There is a strict turn taking system over who gets dropped off at their classroom door first. The eldest always requires a loving hug before she leaves, whilst the youngest skips through the gates confidently, without saying goodbye.
And sometimes I will end up talking to other adults doing the exact same thing as me.

So far this is a story shared by millions of women.

This is where the story gets a little more unusual.

I do this everyday, yet neither of these little girls are my children. I am not their mother, I am not an aunt or blood relation of any kind to them. I am not a hired nanny nor do I have a particular affinity for children.

What I am though, is part of their family, and I play a role to them that doesn’t really have a designated label.

This lack of easily recognisible role or title causes curiosity and often leads to many questions.

I live as part of a formed family, a small group of adults brought together by friendship and committed to staying together as a unit, whilst co-raising children.
I am part of a collective “we”.

And this “we” are about to up sticks and move from London to Scotland together.

This is what we hope to unfold to you, gentle reader, in this blog.
We’d like to tell you the tale of our Scottish adventure as it happens, answer questions that we get asked, share the stories behind our choices, the challenges we face, the ups and downs of living as a formed family and the ways we hope to grow together.

We’d like the blog to reflect us, contributed to by a variety of people with their unique perspectives, some light hearted and fluffy, some more informative and reflective. We’d like this blog to be a document and record of our endeavour, a way of sharing updates with loved ones as well as a way of connecting with new friends.

We would be thrilled if we could use this blog as a way of offering some honest insight into family life outside of a classic “nuclear family” unit.

And this adventure begins soon! After over a year of planning and effort we are leaving London in a matter of weeks, the household is a heady mix of nerves, optimism and a little sadness.

But more of that to follow (including a more detailed introduction of who we all are), for now know that we are so excited to be sharing this with you all and we hope you’ll follow along with us!

Much love,
Sammi