Page 4 of A New Life in Amsterdam

‘That’s great. Although maybe you need to get out a bit more. Felting isn’t going to introduce you to new people. It doesn’t get you out there.’

‘I don’t need to meet anyone. Like I said, I’m very happy with my own company. I’ve got you, and I can always pick up the phone to friends.’

‘Yup, I know. It’s not always the same over the phone though, is it? You should go out and meet people. Maybe even start dating.’

‘Absolutely no way. Nothing would be worse than going out on a date with someone I don’t know. I’d much rather stick to my felting and early nights, thank you.’

‘I understand. It’s just that I heard Rachel, who works with Nigel, is dating again after Tom’s death and it got me thinking.’

‘I remember when Nigel said about that. It was quite a while ago now that Tom died.’

‘I suppose. Anyway, talking of Nigel, he’s being a right pain.’

‘Oh, what’s he up to now?’

‘He’s saying he doesn’t want my mother over for Christmas this year.’

‘But she comes every year.’

‘I know. He’s getting more cantankerous as the years go by. Bloody men. Imagine telling an eighty-year-old that she can’t come this year.’

‘No, that wouldn’t be nice. I hope you manage to persuade him.’

‘Yeah, I will. He can give me the silent treatment for all I care. He always does when something doesn’t suit him. I’ll have peace and quiet then. He does my head in, but I suppose at least he isn’t as bad as Adrian. Did you hear what happened?’ asks Debbie.

You can always guarantee she has the latest gossip on every one of our neighbours.

‘No – unless Janice from the shop knows the gossip, I wouldn’t hear anything.’

‘You wouldn’t believe it. He’s only gone and stolen money from the cricket club. Adrian’s been helping himself to the petty cash. No wonder he’s got a new car on the drive.’

‘Goodness, that must have been a lot of petty cash. I noticed he’s also got one of those robot lawnmowers out the front.’

‘Well, they’re not cheap. See, rumour has it that he’s been dipping his hand into the church roof collection too.’

‘That’s terrible. It’s not surprising he’s always first to volunteer for everything then.’

‘Well, I’m not saying it out loud, but you’ve basically said what everyone’s thinking.’

Debbie sits back with her tea; the silence and our imaginations are more powerful than any gossip about Adrian.

This is mostly as deep as conversation goes on our street.

We must all know everyone’s business, but, on a positive note, if things go wrong, we are also there for each other.

Nobody would ever get away with breaking into someone’s house because a busybody would soon spot them through their window.

Although I don’t think Adrian will be getting much support from anyone after stealing from the local community.

‘Oh, well, I hope Leanne will be okay. I bet she’s embarrassed to show her face.’

I do feel sorry for Adrian’s wife, even though she sometimes boasts about her new quartz-topped kitchen. I bet she’s also got matching copper pans and a decanter.

‘Yeah, well, we can’t control what our partners do. She may have enjoyed the trappings of the money, but I don’t believe she had a clue. She had to go straight down the doctor’s for medication the moment she found out. Well, that’s what one of the receptionists in the clinic told me.’

‘Are the receptionists allowed to go round saying stuff like that? Isn’t that confidential?’

‘Yeah, of course it is, but you know how it is round here.’

I roll my eyes.

‘Anyway, talking of errant husbands, I’d better be off and see what Nigel’s up to. And you’ve got all your stuff to sort. I can’t wait to hear where you decide to go on holiday with all the money when you sell everything. You could even do a Caribbean cruise with all this lot.’

‘Oh, I don’t know that I’ll be going on holiday anywhere. Depends on how much I make, I suppose.’

We hug goodbye and Debbie makes me promise that I will sort some kind of holiday plan out.

Spurred on by Debbie’s enthusiasm for the clear-out, I start making a list of the items to go on auction sites.

I may have lost quite a bit of money buying everything new but I’m sure they will still be worth a small fortune second-hand after everything has been put together.

I place things in piles and make a special stack of things I could never bear to part with; my mother’s beloved crocheted christening blanket for Hannah for one.

Then I make a heap of items that must go, which sadly includes my grey ceramic Dusty Bin from the Eighties.

I put it in the pile for the charity shop.

I’m pretty sure this will bring back memories for someone, but it’s time for me to let go of mine, even though I have fond memories of picking it up at Neath Christmas Fayre with my mam.

By the end of the day, the spare room is crammed full of nearly-new stuff ready to sell.

This one room alone looks like a hoarder’s paradise.

Like it belongs on one of those programmes where a whole team of people have to come in and help someone who has lost all control.

A feeling of self-loathing and shame washes over me in a wave once again.

I try to remind myself that this is why I am doing this. I am going to stop. I know it is wrong.

With photos taken of stuff to sell, I decide to start listing a couple of items before bed so that I can judge how much interest there is before spending days listing everything else.

Sorting out clutter is tiring work, and I am almost done for the day.

I rub my eyes, which are aggravated by the dust mites that I have unearthed, along with the tiredness that is creeping in.

However, as I am about to log off the auction site something grabs my attention. I can only assume that I have been targeted for this advert since I have just listed an assortment of rubber ducks that I pointlessly bought on a trip to the Netherlands, along with the Delft clogs, many years ago.

As my mouse hovers over the button to shut my computer down, I read the words over and over: ‘Houseboat in Amsterdam for sale’. I love Amsterdam, and since I don’t live too far away from Brecon, I have always been obsessed with houseboats. What a combination!

Despite my exhaustion and my resolution to not allow myself to be enticed by anything remotely material, my heart skips a beat as I look at the photo of the houseboat situated on a canal in the middle of Amsterdam.

There isn’t much detail in the small thumbnail advert, but it invites me to click for more information.

My mind is telling me to ignore it, but my heart is beating fast. It is too late; the adrenaline is already pumping through me.

It is as if I have a little devil on my shoulder shouting, ‘Open it. Take a quick look! What harm can it do?’

I wrestle with my conscience but, as usual, listen to the naughty devil on my shoulder and open the advert up. I feel the endorphins immediately. My pulse rate quickens further. I am almost breathless and the tiredness has quickly dissipated.

Hannah’s words ring in my head as I read over the advert.

‘A completely new start, Mam. That’s what you need.

’ In the past, when she was younger, this time of year always brought exciting new beginnings.

September came with a new term at school, new teachers, new uniform, new pencils: everything was shiny and fresh.

As the leaves fell off the trees, the autumn season felt like a time for renewal.

A time to start over. The advert makes me wish for that new start.

However, as I told Hannah when she tried to give me her advice, and I tell myself now, ‘I’ll be fifty-six next month. What if I’m too old for a new start?’

Despite my fears, I can’t resist reading through the specifications of the houseboat. I mean, it is only window shopping. I am not actually buying it. I haven’t spent a euro. It is just curiosity. And what could be wrong with that?

I put my reading glasses on for a closer inspection and stare at the screen in front of me.

Environmentally friendly houseboat for sale. Constructed from sustainable materials, this stunning Nordic houseboat is available immediately.

My eyes skip past the bits about how it’s equipped for harsh winters with its 123 mm wall insulation and the solar panels on the roof. I am too mesmerised by the fact that it’s sustainable and I’d be doing my bit for the planet while also relishing my favourite words – available immediately!

There is only one thing to do and so, before I head to bed, I complete the online enquiry form.

Only then can I shut down my computer as my mind starts to become consumed with thoughts of what it must be like to live on a houseboat.

I’m sure it would be amazing. After all, I watched Rosie and Jim enough times with Hannah when she was small to know that life on a houseboat is utterly idyllic.

I realise that’s a kids’ show, but I’ve also seen lots of those lifestyle TV programmes about people living on houseboats.

They all seem to live the dream. And those ones in Brecon always look lovely…

I might have promised myself that I would stop spending, but it was Debbie who suggested I needed a holiday. Why don’t I do better than that and heed the advice of both Hannah and Debbie? Being half Irish, I have an EU passport and don’t have to worry about the immigration side of things.

A new start in a new country would beat any two-week holiday.

I mean, it is better than coming back to a cold and empty home with a few tacky souvenirs for the kitchen and a couple of extra kilos on my waist. Instead, I would be living the houseboat dream, and the holiday would never end!

Besides, the thought of downsizing has been in the back of my mind for a while, and how much better could it get than downsizing to live on a barge?

Surely this could be one purchase that is worth every single euro.