A continuation on my advice!
Food. Plenty of it! And another time to ignore the wagging fingers of perfect parents. Go to your local supermarket at about 9pm the night before your house-hunt and stock up on tonnes of the bargains – 20p for 20 doughnuts type of thing.
We got up on our house-hunting Saturdays at 7am, drove for three hours from Kent to Somerset, drove from town to town to begin with; and then from house to house; then home again in time for Dr Who. For some reason the kids got hungrier sitting in the back of a car all day than they do bouncing on the trampoline on an ordinary weekend. And when you’re wrenching them away from all that is safe and familiar to them, a supply of doughnuts helps. (Probably to ease my conscience more than anything! Can you tell I’m feeling guilty?)
You fully intend to find a playground and let them run around a bit, but when it’s costing around £50 in petrol for each trip; fitting in another appointment or two somehow takes priority. there’ll be plenty of time to catch up on perfect parenting skills and out-door activities once we’ve moved. After all, everyone knows that a miracle occurs when a move to the country is made. Time will become never-ending and I’ll spend endless afternoons frolicking in meadows with my rosy-cheeked children, gathering berries, making tree-houses and generally having the perfect time in the beautiful English countryside. It will be like that; won’t it?
