retiredmartin

April 2026. Waterbeach.

A week ago we were on our way down south for our last overnight stay in Mum and Dad’s Waterbeach cottage; a year’s stay without a TV and internet, a month sleeping on a mattress on the ground. A mattress covered in crispy beef and Singapore rice that last night before we took it to the tip the next morning and left the house empty, and immaculately clean.

Given that Mrs RM had spent till midnight cleaning her father-in-laws house, while I cleared the garden sheds, we were glad to hear the new residents of Sunnyside appreciated our efforts.

We’d have been down in the campervan or anyway to see Dad in his care home, but to satisfy the onerous insurance requirements I had to spend two nights a week inside. And I did, taking photos each week.

House moves are always stressful. Our own move from Waterbeach during lockdown, with a risk of sale collapse over a tree and no pubs open, was bad enough.

But visiting someone else’s house nearly 3 hours away for a year while the chain collapsed twice ran it close.

Unlike, it seemed, everyone else in the village, I hold no particular affection for Sunnyside. It’s just a (very nice) house. I’m glad a young family are moving in again.

They’re from Waterbeach, so they hopefully won’t need to be told about the appeal of the kebab van, or Chung Hwa, or the lasagne in the Pharmacie cafe, where we had lunch before one last check on the doors and a trip home hoping those exchange and completion dates would hold.

Luckily, they did.