When we moved, we had to organise a house in a town we had never been to. It seemed like a pretty risky thing to do, considering we were just going to turn up on the doorstep with all our possessions.
What if the people there hadn't any teeth? What if they all drank VB, used the 'c bomb' every sentence and believed climate change was a hoax? What if they watched Channel 7 News?!
More urgently, I wasn't sure if we were moving to 'that town' with 'that school' where teachers only last two years before desperately placing themselves onto the transfer list. And for that matter, I wasn't really sure where 'that' place was, or if it really existed. But I sure didn't want to be the one to find out firsthand.
Luckily, when we made the call to the local real estate agent, everyone was really friendly and as accommodating as possible. No 'c bombs'. Seemed like these people had teeth after all.
The real estate agent sent us photos of a house she described as having 'not much' of a backyard. Enough to hang clothes in. Now, where I come from, that means a slab of concrete and a wall-mounted washing line. Here's what we ended up with.
Yeah. Not much of a backyard, huh?
Awesome!
The moving van was organised on relatively short notice, and all of our stuff didn't fit. There was a slight panic on the day before we realised, 'oh, we own a van. duh.' So, we piled all our most beloved possessions into the back of our decrepit old faithful and headed out into the sunset.
Turns out sunset isn't the best time to start a 13 hour journey. Not at all.
We decided to stop at 1am to get some sleep.
So. Here we are, safe and sound. And here are the photos of our country paradise - completely hillbilly-free.
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