Just like Colette, my very own Mr Willy, the Irishman, has banished me to the attic to get on with writing this post. He’s been badgering me to get on with my blog for the past two weeks but due to all manner of boring and annoying things, there’s not been time nor headspace to devote to any creative endeavours. Now finally I’m at my desk. It’s freezing and very draughty up here so I’m wearing several layers plus my coat and a bobble hat. My companions amongst the cobwebs and split packing cases are a dead mouse, several spiders and two cats. One of which is making horribly loud rasping noises as it washes its bottom. I’m really going to have to hone my concentration skills if I’m going to get this post written by lunch time.
There was lots to do when we returned from our trip to Galicia. Since it was my wish to leave 88, and I was the one that had instigated this whole idea of relocating to the north, I felt honour and duty bound to be the one responsible for marketing and selling the house and business. Without the funds we couldn’t proceed any further with making an offer on The Red House. I’m not going to lie, I started to feel a bit glum. Mid November isn’t the best time to start marketing a house but I needed to get it on the market as soon as possible so within a few days of our return, I called the estate agents.
The house went up on their website but the photos were so out of perspective that it looked like a hobbit house with everything squashed sideways and low. We were told to wait until spring when prospective buyers would be back looking again. But I hadn’t got until spring, I needed to get the show on the road. I’d found a house that I loved in a beautiful place and I’d worked so hard on Irishman to convince him that a move to the north was the right thing to do, I couldn’t fall at the first hurdle. I needed a miracle.
Some of you reading this next part will think that I’m absolutely potty and you may well be right but, please trust me, what I’m about to describe to you, works. It’s not the first time that I’ve asked the Universe for help and I don’t suspect that it will be the last. I shall try to explain it as simply as I can. If I have a Big Ask, something that I really want very badly, something that I think is not unreasonable or ridiculous, I ask the Universe to help me. The most important thing to remember is to be very clear and concise in what it is that you’re asking for. Mixed messages don’t work, The Universe wants to help us but it needs our unwavering commitment and absolute focus. To get the very best help from the Universe you need to commit a certain amount of time each day to gratitude and visualisation. Visualisation is KEY. The first thing that I did was to put photos of The Red House around the house. Little visual prompts to remind me to focus and visualise. I put The Red House as the screensaver on my computer, on my phone, a photo by my bed. Every day I spent a certain amount of time focusing on us living and working at the Red House. The same mantra was repeated over and over again. I made a point each day of going to a special quiet place and asking for help in selling 88, and being able to buy The Red House. I imagined us living there, working there, renovating the house. This went on for weeks and weeks and weeks to the point that I wondered if I may be barking up the wrong tree. Absolutely nothing was happening. The estate agents seemed to have given up on us and and my own advertisement that I’d written on here had not had quite the response that I was hoping for. Oh ye of little faith Lottie Nevin. Shame on you! How could I forget the golden rule, that if you waver, you’re on to a losing wicket. I told a good friend, and she reminded me not to lose heart. ‘The Universe has your back, Lottie, keep at it!’ and so I did.
And then, almost simultaneously two extraordinary things happened.
More soon, I promise…