Sometimes you get news that is on the one hand, brilliant, and on the other hand, less brilliant. This was very true of Sarah’s news that she was emigrating (well, ish) to the Isle of Wight. On the plus side, a lovely place to settle and bring up children by the sea, a great job for her husband (er, something to do with fibres, she says, knowledgeably. For a renewable energy firm.) On the down side, a long way away from ME! Having decided that throwing a tantrum of epic proportions and/or kidnapping her children wasn’t a dignified or useful way forward, I had to accept that they would be moving and that I would have to just Deal With It. Handily, this coincided with our news that clothing company Mango would not let us trademark, or trade as, mangoJam anymore. (I can’t really say much more on the subject, only to say how lovely the clothes are in Zara.!) Effectively we would have to begin again, with a new name, logo and semi-international base. And yes, I think that the Isle of Wight counts as being international. Getting there involves a ferry, anyway. Oh, and we had about 4 weeks to do it. We do love a tight deadline. It makes life so much more fun… Having gone through a LOT of potential fruit-based names (thanks to anyone who contributed to the debate, we had some very interesting ideas. Would you really buy clothing from a label called JangoMam, though? That is the question,) we decided to go with the simple option: our names. Sarah&Alice. We picked a new signature colour: a sort of aubergine shade of purple (you can run from fruit and veg, but you can’t hide.) Sarah bullied her brother into designing us a new logo – unveiling soon!
To be perfectly honest, the business side of things was the easy bit. The saying goodbye bit was less easy. It is very hard to go from being able to nip round the corner and share ideas, have a cup of tea, drop off a suitcase of clothing or two, to being a long car and ferry journey away. The tea would have gone cold for a start. And as I have said before, I am no fan of cold tea. Also, over the course of the last year, our youngest daughters had become very close. Matilda and Erin are just five days apart in age and basically exactly the same personality-wise (to give you an insight into this personality, think psycho-glamour. Barbie dolls and fist fights. Baby Annabels at dawn!) The thought of breaking the news to them was almost worse than the thought of Sarah moving away. Luckily, breaking news to a three-year old goes pretty much like this:
Me: Tilly, Erin is going to move to a new house.
Tilly: With a pony?
Me: No. I don’t think that ponies are involved. It’ll be by the sea. Quite a long way away.
Tilly: Can I have a new sparkly pony?
Me: Hmmmn. Maybe. Erin won’t be going to preschool with you any more.
Tilly: I love preschool. We have a calender and we sing wibble wobble wibble wobble jelly on a plate.
And so the news was broken. Erin took it much the same way, luckily. Sometimes, I wish I was three. It seems easier; a more simple life, but with much more fancy dress involved…