We are selling our house. 

The idea is to move from the countryside into the giddy bright lights of Petersfield.

It will be a wrench but it will, hopefully, give the Best Beloved a new lease on life, you can’t use a mobility vehicle across muddy fields.

Anyway, we have had to make the house viewer-friendly instead of presenting an eclectic choice of furniture and general stuff – gone are the two vintage French fire buckets, and the (reproduction) Greek nude statue, the old (again) French wooden cockerel with a bit of a missing beak, the usual chair with half-finished upholstery that I am working on.

And trust me, quite a lot more.

Our house used to be the school house for Uppark (our local National Trust house) and when we changed the one brick-thick porch on the house to something better and well insulated, we kept the bench and coat pegs the children knew and used.

But apparently, our coats should not be hanging on them….

So effective was this clear out that a friend came into our kitchen and said, ‘Blimey there is an echo in here. ‘

Who knew you had to make sure your kitchen bin should be hidden – do people viewing houses not know that kitchens need a bin? 

All our stuff – not the kitchen bin – is now in one of our garages. 

Thank goodness for garages – mind you two garages, a sizeable loft and a cellar does mean you have quite a lot of stuff some of which has already and thankfully been cleared out.

On the Rightmove description of our house, the garden was described as pretty and nature friendly – that is code for untidy in estate agent speak I suspect.

(See the large wooden horse’s head I bought at auction when I went to buy a Georgian tip-top table. ‘Come on Madam,’ the auctioneer said, ‘ Just one more bid and he is such a bargain.’ )

Should you want a look: https://www.rightmove.co.uk/properties/166715627#/?channel=RES_BUY 

Anyway, we have a lovely crab apple tree and she ( I am not sure about this, but she has always been a she to me) produces less and more of a crop on alternative years. 

This year was a very big crop.

She rained crab apples down around herself and littered our path with them.

I had taken a decision not to make crab apple jelly this year as it is a rather laborious and time consuming task, and I had other stuff to think about.

( In previous years, I have made it and scattered jars liberally around the neighbours, but this year it was a jelly-making step too far.)

The postman, Steve, said he’d take some and he did, but there were still lots and lots. 

And it was not, we decided, a good idea to have any viewer slipping on rotting and crushed crab apples as they walked up the path so we diligently removed them from the path.

We left those, looking rural and artistic, under the tree with a scattering of cyclamen coming up.

But before we came away (more on that another time) we decided they also needed removing.

So we cleared several garden buckets full, and crab apples are not light so, lugging away, is probably a better description.

And the BB mowed that bit of the grass, avoiding the cyclamen. (We have grass, not a lawn, see previous comments about garden description.)

The next day there were more crab apples on the path than there had been throughout her shedding.

Personally, I think she was protesting that I had failed to use the fruits of her labours, and was displeased.

The people who are buying the house, not enthusiastic gardeners (yet), will have to learn her ways and moods themselves.

Our amazing tiny little apple tree, not much taller than me, was more forgiving.