Tuesday March 28, 2006
I thought we’d be in for a subdued day today but by the time we’d gone to Boston for a few bits and pieces and taken coffee and croissants before setting off to return home via the supermarket, we were bouncing once more. And nothing that happened during the rest of the day managed to get us down again.
Graham touched base with our buyers late in the afternoon, to be informed that their solicitor was still pushing their buyer’s solicitor to get cracking. Graham is hoping for the best. I’m expecting the worst. Between us we have a pretty well balanced view.
Sitting in the front window this evening, listening to our local nightingale filling the fading light with his breath-takingly beautiful liquid trills and turns, I saw our nearby neighbour drive up and park her car. We exchanged friendly waves and, as she got out onto the drive, very carefully because she’s massively pregnant with her second child, and due any day now, I held my tummy in sympathy. She laughed, and did the little jump up and down that she knows fills me with terror. I tried to stuff both fists in my mouth and then we both rolled in laughter.
It’s a happy thing when a young woman is enjoying her pregnancy and looking forward to delivery with great joy.
I received the wad of paper from the removal company today, via email(!), giving us a quotation and detailing their terms. All good stuff but I shall have to stall them when it comes to setting a date. The actual removal charges are about what I expected but the storage rates considerably less, based on our previous experience. I suspect that the general take up of self-storage has obliged them to become more realistic.
The nightingale carried on singing, the light disappeared and, from the kitchen, I heard the familiar plop! of a cork being extracted from a bottle of wine.
“Oh, goody,” I called. “Plonko time?”
“Yup. Plonko time.”