You already said that

Saturday February 26, 2005

As we were wandering around B&Q early this afternoon in search of materials for Graham’s next make-over project, I chanced to remark: “It’s the first of March on Tuesday.”

“Yer wot?”

“The first of March. On Tuesday… almost the first day of …”

“Oh, b*****y hell!” he interrupted, fiercely. “This will not do!”

“How do you mean?” I asked, somewhat alarmed. Graham does two kinds of fierce. One is fun. Rather a lot of fun, actually. This was the other kind.

“This make-over is taking far too long.”

“I don’t see that. You said it’d take as long as it takes when I asked.”

“Don’t quote me. I’m not in a mood for being quoted at.”

“So, then…?”

“So we’ve gotta get a move on. I’ll change over to Plan B.”

“Oh, no, not Plan B!”

He relented sufficiently to grace me with a smile. “Yes, Plan B. I’m going to work out some short-cuts for the remaining work. Time we got moving or Easter will come and go and then we’ll be stuck for the summer.”

“Fair enough. Anything I can do?”

“Yeah. Go and get a bigger trolley.”

So off I trotted with the little shopper’s trolley squeaking merrily in front of me while Graham, grim of visage, started scanning the shelves of paint, his PPC in hand, taking notes and working things out.

When we’d finished, we were laden with rather more cans and rolls than I’d anticipated.

“You really do mean it, don’t you,” I remarked.

“You betcha little chooky-boots.”

“Hey ho. What do you fancy for lunch?”

After lunch, and a shortish nap, I found him busy in the third bedroom, wading through a major pile of stuff, putting most of it up in trash bags but with a small stack of interesting goodies by his side.

“Oh,” I said, hopefully. “Are these pictures and things going up on the walls and shelves after all, then?”

“Nope,” he said. “They’re going up on eBay. Finish your coffee and get cracking.”

“Your wish is my…”

“It’d better be, chooky-boots. It’d better be.”

And so that was the rest of my day accounted for, sorting things out, cleaning them and lining them up in the order I want to list them. And a bit of research on prices, categories and such. One of the items I already had up for auction closed while I was online and I was a little surprised at the price it fetched. More than a little surpised.

“‘Ere,” I yelled out. “Guess what we got for those horse brasses?”

“Dunno. Tuppence?”

“Thiry-one blessed quid.”

“B****y hell!”

“Just goes to show. One man’s junk is another man’s treasure. Speaking of treasure, are you sure you want us to get rid of this David Winter Green Dragon?”

“Yup. It’s been packed up all this time so we’ll not miss it. It goes in the ‘No longer required’ category, like we agreed.”

“What do you think on starting price?”

“Dunno. Tuppence?”

“Right you are then. Three ninety-nine it is.”

“Do you reckon?”

“Oh, yes. It’s generally a good idea to start low.”

“Why, what do you reckon we’ll get for it?”

“Well, I’ve seen them go for over fifty quid.”

“B****y hell!”

“You already said that.”

 


Stickford Feb 26,'05
No longer required


 

So it looks as if I’m going to have to spend much more of my time doing the eBay dance for a couple of weeks or so, having let it lapse rather since I got all obsessed with drawing and painting. Quite good timing, really, since the hard ridge of scar tissue on my thumb, while no longer tender, is going to take another week to dissolve away to the point where I’m happy to use a brush in earnest. Meantime, I’ll try to fill a sketchbook page every day, just to help keep my interest alive. Not that it needs much help.

We’re hardening up our approach to the big de-clutter. The London flat is likely to be about half the size of this place, possibly even smaller, and there will be no garage or outside storage. So for a few years we’re going to have to think and live small. We’ll be putting some precious furniture and essentials into storage but only a few things we know we’ll not have room for or will not fit into life in the City. All the rest is going to have to go, either on eBay or in a yard sale. As a last resort we can call in a house clearance agent but, frankly, I’d rather give it away than do that.

I’m more concerned with working out a supportable way of accommodating the things we want to keep about us in a limited space. I’ve suggested we each have a medium sized piece of cabinet furniture, something like a tall-boy, with shelves and drawers built in, and limit our must-have personal stuff to what we can get in them. We’ll have book shelves, of course, though like as not somewhat less than we currently own. Some lucky charity is going to get a large donation of once-read paperbacks shortly, if the local public library doesn’t want them.

Graham started hauling out large trash bags of junk just before dinner-time.

“You really are serious on this, aren’t you?”

“Oh, yes. It’s hold your nose and jump time.”

“Dolly can’t hold her nose.”

“No, but she can jump better than either of us.”

“Now, that’s true.”

 

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