Wednesday April 26, 2006
“What time are they coming?” Graham asked. Not for the first time.
“Our friendly house moving coordinator said nine to nine-thirty.”
“What time is it now?”
“About eight-thirty,” I said, untypically imprecise because all but one of the clocks have been packed and that one was in another room.
“Good. Plenty of time, then.”
Moments later, one of those enormous removal lorries pulled up outside, giving rise to a suitable if unseemly expletive from Graham and a continuous stream of feline expletives from Dolly as she was stuffed into her travel box and lodged in the bathroom for the duration. I made tea.
And so the move began, slowly at first but picking up pace dramatically at about ten o’clock when the second large lorry drew up and disgorged a couple of extra blokes. I made more tea.
Even so, it was a long process, loading all of our stuff into storage containers, and I began to flag. Graham borrowed a neighbour’s petrol mower and cut the grass. I made more tea.
Finally, about two o’clock, all was done, we waved the two ginormous lorries goodbye as they reversed back down the lane and then we came back into a very nearly empty house. We let Dolly out of her travel box and she was, strangely, much pleased to find that all our stuff was gone and that she had acres of space in which to roam and moan. Graham put up the camp beds. I made lunch.
After a long siesta we embarked on the house clearing and cleaning exercise. I made more tea.
As I write this we’re just about finished with the big clean and I’ve been told to put the oven on to cook our pizzas. Those camp beds are looking awful enticing.
Tomorrow morning, when we’re good and ready, we’ll pop Dolly and the last of the stuff into the car and take a leisurely drive down to Somerset. The rush, the pressure and almost all of the stress are over. And, tomorrow, someone else can make the tea.