Ready for battle

Tuesday March 14, 2006

The put-the-pressure-on project started today with us putting out enquiries to the chain, defining our concerns and our growing discontent with the log jam. We’ve been assured that the sales and purchases are all still solid, with a part-time solicitor in Wales causing the delays. Sally, our solicitor, told Graham that she felt he was quite safe to carry on with the packing. “Be brave, and get on with the job,” she said.

Once the flurry of phone calls was done and peace had settled over the little house by the fens once more I said: “So what do we do, then?”

“Carry on packing.”

“Right you are. What do you want me to do?”


Outside the snow turned to snizzle and then to a steady, miserable rain, washing away all traces of the early morning fall. It’d looked good out there for a while, gloves and muffler weather. When, in the late afternoon, the rain stopped, it was grey, sad, and cold.

By the end of the day, Graham announced that he needed only one or two more days to finish the packing. I’d performed a dry run through the business side, and concluded that even with worst case responses, we can get the job done inside two weeks, to include an advance trip to Somerset so’s we can transport the patio plants and spend a weekend in the caravan.

“We can do this,” I said.

“Oh, yes. We can do it alright.”

“Are we having fun yet?”

“Well, if this is fun, we’re having it right enough.”

It is fun, of course, setting aside the jaw-clenchingly anger-making situation of waiting for an incompetent solicitor at the start of the chain to get his act together and actually set the official seal on the business. Almost all of our precious things are safely stowed in stout cardboard boxes, and the house looks a bit on the bleak side now, but I went on to rustle up a pretty good dinner. We sat down in the late evening to enjoy it and to watch an episode of Blake’s Seven on DVD.

After we’d shut the TV off and were sitting over steaming hot mugs of Ovaltine—our nightcap of choice at the moment—I studied my rough draft of the tasks I need to get done.

“I’ve got it all written out, and in the correct order,” I said. “All I need do now is put the dates in.”

“Put it away,” he replied. “Nothing to be done about it now except get a good night’s sleep ready for battle tomorrow.”



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