An analog life

Still partying like it's 1999

2008-08-18

Movin' on up, movin' on out

We've just sold our futon (high fives all around, cos that was a big headache), and the process of uprooting and upheaval begins all over again. We're selling everything we can, planning how to throw stuff out given intermittent rubbish collection, and trying to decide how much we can reasonably keep, just like when we left Toronto. Though this time, it's not just a question of jamming things into a station wagon for a trip back to the storage locker that is my parents' house in Kingston (thanks, guys!), but of jamming things into suitcases in the face of an ever-decreasing overseas weight allowance. I think of little else at the moment, and every time I pick something up, I find myself speculatively weighing it in my hand. I guess it's good to have something to occupy my time besides the Olympics, which is my other main pastime.

Actually, I've got lots to do, including some freelance editing work and waiting on Jeff hand and foot (let's see if he still bothers to read this), so I'm a bit worried about wrapping up every detail of our lives here in less than two weeks. Especially given how unhelpful (dare I say, unknowledgeable) the bank, inland revenue and the county council have thus far been. In fact, every telephone call has been an exercise in frustration, whether trying to get carpet cleaning quotes ('Well, love, I'll neither be the cheapest nor the most expensive, that's what I can tell you.'), trying to cancel my gym membership ('Just phone the number on the front of the card.' 'Uh, you want me to dial my membership number?'), or trying to find out why rubbish hasn't been collected at the flat in weeks ('Is that a new building? We don't have any record of rubbish collection at that address.'). I suppose in some sentimental way I will miss the way business is done here. On the eve of my departure I am more likely to respond to the quirks and irrationalities with a sigh of affectionate resignation rather than with apoplexy. And of course there are many many things about living here that I will truly miss. A partial list:

The Guardian newspaper
Marks and Spencer
The Beeb, especially documentaries by Andrew Marr
The musty, stony smell of six-hundred-year-old country churches
Rain falling out of a completely sunny sky (still don't see how that works)
The church bells in Oxford
Rambling through the countryside without fear of being shot for being on someone's private property
How every ramble hits at least one or two lovely country pubs
Beer gardens - but real gardens with sunshine and gracefully sloping lawns rather than a concrete patio packed with drunk students (what passes for a beer garden back home)
Thatched roofs
Wearing Wellies and not feeling silly
Proximity to Heathrow and therefore the rest of the world
Proximity to London and its garden of earthly delights
Twenty-five days of holiday (this is a biggie)

Out-takes from Hampstead:

Bad temper!

Bad art!

The cat's name, apparently, is 'Psyche'.

1 Comments:

At 8:38 AM, Blogger Rob said...

I hope everything goes smoothly! Enjoy your trip. We'll see you guys soon!

 

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