When a friend told me that they were going to move house, my heart sank. Why? Because I am really rubbish at offering to help. My husband works away and I have five children to juggle alone for the most part of the year. I also suffer from three autoimmune diseases which restrict me physically.

Feelings of pressure and guilt would swoop over me because I know what it is like to move house with little to no help, it… is… torture! Then, a brainwave! What was the one thing that we desperately needed after the peak of weeks of planning and physical labor climaxing in a weekend/day of chaos and hard labor with stress pouring from every direction? A hot shower, a good wholesome meal and a warm bed for the night to recharge for the bedlam that awaits at the new home tomorrow. Therefore our home became the ‘Refuel and Regenerate’ center for all of the movers and shakers.

Down my path they would stagger, broken, exhausted, weary but happy. In they would stumble greeted by the smells of a roast cooking with an appropriate dessert tantalizingly calling, a cup of cocoa or a glass of red, a sofa, a shower and a clean warm bed with which to slumber like logs until the following morning. It is not much in the scheme of things, but it is given with love. – Cathy x

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