Monday April 4, 2005
Most days now have at least one that’s that done, then associated with them.
Today, as we drove away from the Skegness dump/recycling centre Graham remarked that it was the last time we’ll need to do the dump run before going on the market. Any junk we accumulate in the next few weeks can go into the normal rubbish collection or local recyling bins.
I’d been chuckling merrily at our encounter with the guy in charge of the general waste collection bin, who’d obligingly started a crush cycle a little early so we could enjoy the sound of a large TV set being reduced to a mass of crushed plastic and exploded cathode ray tube. That was fun, and he took some delight in our pleasure. Which was fun, too.
For some reason Graham’s announcement wiped the smile from my face, not at all the result he’d intended. Finishing off a major rubbish clearance task is a good thing, warranting a little mutual self-congratulation. And we did that, a little later. For that moment, though, I took a less than positive view of it.
“Well, that’s good,” I said, cautiously. “But we still haven’t reached a decision as to where we’ll go when we move. Difficult to plan when you don’t have a target.”
“You’re right,” he said.
“So what do we do about it, then?”
“In the past we’ve always solved this problem by taking ourselves off to neutral ground and had a long, long talk over bad coffee.”
“Hah. Yes. Do you remember when we spent the night in the coffee lounge at Gatwick Airport, talking about the move away from Crawley?”
“Oh, Lord, yes. And the time we sat in that awful refreshment room on Brighton Station? Where the drunk woman pee’d herself?”
“That was memorable,” I understated.
Hey ho. We’re a long way from both Gatwick Airport and Brighton Station now, and if there’s a good place here to provide a neutral debating ground we’ve yet to find it. For the moment I’m going to have to shove the whole question on the back burner and stop thinking about it.
We will decide. Soon. And I’m tired of speculating about it.
In fact I’m just plain tired. The end of a big make-over project always leaves me like that. So I’m not looking for excitement, inspiration or even animated discussion. I’m planning nothing more for the next week or so but a long series of snoozes, some minor excursions along the lane for good fresh air, and an empty mind. Especially the empty mind. Sounds good, does an empty mind.