Saturday, June 27, 2009

Would that this would end!

Anyone who says mid way through a move that, “the worst is over” is not only tempting fate but also showing a shocking lack of experience in the soul searing process of rearranging accommodation.
Uneasy dreams of multifarious disasters (all surprisingly connected with various aspects of moving) were finally interrupted by the sound of my mobile alarm at whose notes I am programmed to lurch into some similitude of wakefulness.

My first worried duty was to check that the unbroken line of cars outside our flat had dissipated enough to allow a van to park by the flat’s main gate. There was a space so I immediately got the car from the underground garage and plonked it in the middle of a two car space thus ensuring that no other car could take it.

Our moving team when it finally arrived (it was only a few minutes late but to a mind sick with worry about what might happen it seemed like hours) they leapt into action after a few horrified glances at the number of boxes there were to carry. Toni, crucified with embarrassment at the sheer scale of the ‘stuff’ to be moved actually volunteered to ‘help’ the men with the move. I felt that this was ‘bad form’ and made little attempt to follow his lead.

Their muscular help ensured that the major part of the move was completed in two trips by the troop of South Americans leaving our new house looking completely chaotic.

Toni’s sister came to help and was followed by the rest of the family. Our meal at the corner restaurant was excellent and helped compensate for the horror of the morning. Even my ‘hands off arm’s length’ approach was exhausting.

We at least stand a chance of getting all the ‘stuff’ to the new place by midday tomorrow.

And then the cleaning starts.

I am almost looking forward to going back to school on Monday.

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