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Removal day and the Biblical conditions continued as I threatened to sacrifice my son to God, but then God stopped me.
It was also still raining.
The removal men had packed up the kitchen yesterday, but I was sorting out the few bits and bobs we'd held on to so we could still eat dinner and breakfast. One of my oldest bowls was on the table, ready to be packed, when I noticed a tiny smear of porridge on it. I took it to the sink to wash it - I didn't want a dirty bowl in my new house - and as I put it in the sink it broke in two.
This was one of two last survivors from bowls I bought decades ago. I think I'd had it in my flat in Balham and it was certainly with me throughout my many years in Shepherd's Bush. It had then come to Hertfordshire, where for most of the time it had been in the second division of bowls in a cupboard that we rarely even opened.
But then it had been called back into play due to injury to newer bowls and had done a good job for me these last few months. It was minutes away from being taken to a fourth home. To lose it as this point would be a heartbreaking moment in any film made for the entertainment of bowls.
It couldn't make the trip with me. It made the trip into the bin.
I also decided it was time to retire the broken cup I use to collect the water that drains out of my coffee machine every time I turn it on and off. That cup had lost its handle many years back and most cups would have retired at that point. But old cuppy found a job he could do and ironically became my most used mug as he was called into service several times a day (though often he - or more accurately I - forgot to get put under the spout and the water went into the drip tray).
Any kind hearted boss would have taken this much loved cup on to the next home. But I didn't vote Brexit in order to have a broken cup - I voted Brexit so cup rights could be overturned and I couldn't be sued for throwing away a cup just because it wasn't whole. Thanks Nigel.
I feel bad about it now.
Catie had an even more entertaining morning as she was driving the kids to school. Last night she'd driven home through a river and without realising it she must have run over some pot hole or bit of debris under the water and slashed one of our brand new tyres (that have been there for just a matter of days). Remarkably she didn't notice this as she drove off this morning, even when Phoebe questioned if everything was OK. And Catie got the car five miles to Hitchin on a flat tyre, before she realised what was going on. It's actually quite impressive.
But now, on this morning of all mornings, as the Gods' rain of anger bore down on us and we tried to ready our stuff for the move, Catie was stuck waiting for the AA and really needing a wee (a shopkeeper let her use his toilet).
The same Taskmaster fan who had put those three new tyres on was the one who sold Catie a new tyre and he recognised the car from his records. It was, I suppose, the tyre that I had got nearly for free.
Hitchin was flooding and though our house remained dry, water had been pouring down over the front of the house from an apparently broken gutter. The men working on the house did their best to unblock it, but it was beyond them so we had to call out an expert who would later tell us that the pipe under our interconnecting front garden wall was broken and that there was also a problem under the pavement outside. Just what we needed, another bit of expense (though hopefully the water company will deal with the bigger issue). It really felt like this move wasn't approved by non-existent deities (and is it any wonder when I keep insisting that they don't exist). Final touches were still being made to the house as the removal men arrived and there was some friction between them and the workmen as a result of entry being blocked.
One sofa was too big to get into the room we wanted it in - and the walll in the hallway got nicely scuffed - another job for grumpy moustacho.
But everything got in and nearly everything is working. The kids got taken off to stay at their grandparents (after I'd walked Phoebe to football and back and had to stand in the cold watching her for an hour - I was ready to drop). Catie and me unpacked a bit of stuff, but the task seemed insurmountable.
When we'd had enough we got to go on a little date and have a curry. We got back to the peaceful curtainless house and looked out of our newly built bedroom window at the crescent moon and the stars and the trees in the gardens behind ours. We had our own proper ensuite bathroom for the first time in years and the house is amazing. It was the first time I got to pause in two days. To be able to walk to a restaurant and then have this oasis of calm felt incredible.
The kids will be back tomorrow to ruin that though!
It feels like this was a very good choice right now.
After all this time, we're in. We're home. Nothing can possibly go wrong.
There is, however, no internet, until the BT engineer gets here on Thursday (and there isn't even a BT socket in the house, so I hope it's not more work than they're expecting). I can tether from my phone, but it's pretty useless, so I am almost offline, which as you can imagine is a terrifying prospect for me.
And if you want a coffee machine expulsion mug (or just a really cool big mug) Chris Evans found a box of Kickstarter RHLSTP mugs and
you can buy one here (if you're quick). All money goes to making more pods.
Like this one-
