Monday, 18 July 2011
One week to go.
Friends have come in and pulled their weight - we passed a wet Saturday afternoon dealing with the horror of the boiler/tools cupboard, with Annie and Lynn being both methodical and ruthless.
Sandra comes in daily, and even after she has gone home to collapse, pops in again with delicate proposals "It's stopped raining (torrentially, she means) for a few minutes; shall we tackle the shed?" and who am I to say no to such an offer?
The big things have been done - oh no, wait, there's still Lesley's mum's garage, in which a vast heap of big things lurk, already packed, thank goodness. Boxes and boxes of stained glass and equipment - definitely coming with me. The old kitchen table - being left for the buyer. Bookshelves. Laundry baskets. I can't remember what else, but I know it's there; I must go and look soon, soon....
But today, Fran and I are meeting at Plessey Woods for a picnic lunch and a walk; she was Flossie's boarding school Head (remember the lessons that Flossie so enjoyed?) and they will be delighted to see each other, if not so happy to say goodbye.
While I'm up there in Northumberland, I shall call in at my solicitor's office and sign some more papers - all this last-minute reliance on the post leaves me a nervous wreck.
Tonight friends are coming over for our once-a-month get together, and I must clear a space for us all to sit; they'll find things to pack, I know they will, and will be cheerful, but it will be our last time together in my house, and I know we will all be awash with emotion.
I am NEVER moving house again.
Posted by rachel at 10:27