It is possible to fit quite a number of things into a period of three weeks. You can, for example, put a designated quantity of your belongings into a very small car, leave one country and drive to another, begin to try and speak a language that you aren't particularly familiar with, and become used to the every-fifteen-minutes chime of an ancient church bell, which resides scarcely one hundred metres from your door. You can also find the time to feel wondrously dreadful about the world on fire, about powerlessness and politics, about the decisions being made by the unmentionable but obvious people who contain less sense, less feeling, and less understanding than could ever seem possible. In between this anger, you can also get pre-approved for a mortgage, construct a temporary washing line in an overgrown, stone-covered courtyard, and consume three croissants.