Of course, this post is going up four days after the events contained therein, but I’m much too lazy to change everything to past tense so I’ll just leave it like this. I wrote it last Sunday, if you’re interested in the precise dates things happened. Obviously by now there has been internet.
I think I drew the short end of the moving straw, because I’ve managed to wrangle two lots of moving house in the same week. Basically. A Sunday-Sunday week, rather than the usual Monday-Monday week. In essence, too much moving house.
The drive up to Kirkbymoorside was made extremely exciting for two reasons.
- The satnav kept trying to direct us South at every available opportunity, including some where no opportunity to turn existed.
- The car was leaking a) smoke and b) oil, which added enjoyment to the trip. Fortunately this was because my dad forgot to put the lid back on the oil after he refilled it, although I can’t work out if I’d rather it were because the car was completely broken than because of silly human error.
- It’s an elderly car. The road into Kirkby involves an exciting, windy, steep, windy road. I have it on good authority that that turn was even harder than some of the turns up the mountains near Nice.
That’s three reasons. My bad.
Sitting in the living room, drinking tea out of an owl mug and talking about four hour car-journeys, one thought occurred to me; if we only had furniture, I could be sitting on a sofa right now.
My bedroom is on the top floor. I’m pretty impressed by the removal men, who appear to have become overexcited and brought me my brother’s bedside table as well as mine.
Another enjoyable task was the removal of two spiders from my en-suite bathroom. I’m not scared of spiders. Really. But even I pause at removing a living spider from its, frankly rather impressive, web. It was made even more fun by the fact that one of the spiders was dead, but still attached to the web. The fun doubled when I realised the hinge for my window was halfway down the glass and it opened horizontally.
Once that onerous task had been completed and my all-important brown fluffy dressing gown had been located, it was time to hit the pub and gorge ourselves on food. (Yeah, I know I didn’t mention anyone else, but my mum, dad, and brother were there too. They ate food. It happens) There’s nothing like a full roast lunch and white chocolate and malteser cheesecake on a cold summer’s (?) day, particularly if you can then follow that up with an afternoon spent
doing very little unpacking boxes.
And, as it turns out, the internet-person isn’t coming until
Monday Tuesday, so I’ll have to live for two whole days without internet. I don’t know how I’m going to survive it, if I’m honest. Wish me luck!