As our idea about retirement continues to evolve, we have discovered that house and pet sitting is an amazing opportunity to step into someone else’s shoes and those shoes can be just about anywhere in the world. What started out as house sitting, led to dog sitting, and a puppy fix we didn’t even know we needed. Here is our latest experience in a delightful English village.
From the moment we arrived, it felt like we had stepped back in time and onto the pages of a Jane Austen book. The home we occupied was a 250-year-old stone house in a village that dates all the way back to Saxon times. The village is anchored on either side by a pub and in the center sits a 14th century Norman church with its ancient tower. Fun fact, we learned from the owner that many of the windows were bricked up in the17th century to avoid paying higher taxes. Britain decided it was easier to assess wealth by the number of windows in a building and landlords retaliated by bricking them up.
The feeling in and around the village was ethereal along its countless footpaths and lush meadows, greens, and fields. We heard sing-songy blackbirds and bustling, buzzing bumblebees. The air smelled of cinnamon, orange peel, and lilac. If only I could’ve bottled that up! Out on our daily walks, we met puppies named Poppy and Pippi and their owners actually bid us, “Cheerio!” And, how many invitations did we receive from neighbors to have a pint at the pub or a sit in their garden? On all of these occasions it felt like we had a special pass to the inside. We were suddenly integrated and subsequently privy to the latest local talk, from village stories to brainstorming for the nearing May Day festivities (there’s an actual May Pole on the village green) and the upcoming Queen’s Jubilee. A real life experience we could never get from an Airbnb or hotel stay.
Besides giving and getting lots of love from the four-legged friend in our care, one of our duties included tending to the vegetable plants in the greenhouse on the owners’ allotment. Allotments, as they are called in the UK, are communal gardens dating back to Anglo-Saxon times with surges during WWI, WWII, and again at the end of the 20th century when consumers became concerned about genetic modification and contamination. It was yet another wholesome way to engage with nature and our allotment neighbors.
One of the surprises I did not expect was a chance to cook on a cast iron cooker, like the ones with covered hobs you see on British programs. These oil-fed cookers produce nonstop heat at varying degrees — and besides cooking, provide a source of heat in the room (as well as speed the drying process of wet clothes). Challenge accepted! We adventurously figured out how to wrangle the scorching beast.
Another small adjustment when baking, was the need to convert all of the ingredients into grams and temperatures into Celsius. Those conversions were pretty straightforward. What really threw me was when I stepped on the bathroom scale and read my weight in stones. Stones? Where are we?! In case you’re wondering, 1 stone = 14 pounds.
We caught a glimpse of the British National Healthcare system, too. On our second day, I needed a prescription medicine. I thought we could just walk one mile to the next village so I could ask a pharmacist what I needed to do. On the way, it started pouring rain. Walks always seem longer when — a) you’ve in a foreign place, and b) it’s raining cats and dogs. But, we persisted.
When we finally reached, I learned from the pharmacist that she could not fill a foreign prescription. She suggested that I step into the clinic next door and register as a temporary resident, see a doctor, and get a prescription. My husband and I, in all our soggy wetness, popped in next door and enquired.
The woman at registration asked me for my personal details. That’s when I realized I was without my identification. We had packed a backpack for this outing; my husband brought his wallet, but I left my purse/passport back at the house. Then she asked me for the address where we were staying. That, we also did not know. I explained we were just picked up from the airport the day before and we were staying for three weeks to house and dog sit. I mentioned that the homeowners were patients and perhaps she could get the address from their file. She asked me for their surname. Once again, we did not know! Only half kidding, she asked us if we had a house key, which thankfully my husband was able to produce!
We were all having a good laugh when it dawned on me to scroll through old messages on my phone to find the owners’ email addresses in hopes they included their last name. A-ha! mystery solved, I found the addresses including their last name. What a sense of relief. The woman was able to find our temporary address (which was only a house name, no number) and I was ready to see a doctor.
Long story short, I was able to get my prescription and there was no charge for the medical appointment, only a small fee for the medicine. Lesson learned, know exactly where you are staying.
All in all, our house/dog sit in England was an unforgettable experience. Of course every sit has its own set of challenges, but with the right attitude, it is an exciting, enriching, and unique opportunity to live like locals. As someone who prefers to be in perpetual motion, these house/dog sits are the perfect working vacation with the bonus of lots of puppy love.
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