more a catch up. There is more work and brain-racking involved in leaving a house and animals behind than in actually getting yourself to Australia, I find. It's when you realise how many foibles, idiosyncracies and plain awful neglected jobs your home possesses, and how difficult it is to write a clear step-by-step guide to using everyday things when you might need unexpected implements to do so, like pliers (the missing gas fire control knob), or a screwdriver (the yard door latch). And how you need a firm hand with the back door but a gentle hand with the fridge, a firm voice for Harry and no voice at all for deaf Kevin, and how neither of them will eat the sardine or rabbit cat food in the multipacks, but will fight for the whitefish one....Don't forget the milkman hides the milk in the lavender since it was stolen once, and oh, do remember to check underneath it for little slugs. The vet's number is here, neighbours' keys and alarm codes are hidden here, and the spare house keys are here....And if anything goes wrong, yell for Sandra, quick, and unless it involves horrid decisions about the animals, don't tell me anything till I get home. Shelagh leaves details of her dentist - I assumed in case she has to be identified by her dental records, but she denies that, and I am left puzzled.
Packing? Fine. Travel money? Ordered. Me? Chilled. (See my nose growing......)