We've Moved

The GR did it stick by stick across the street with each piece of furniture. I wonder if there is a record for moving the shortest distance to another borough? Now it’s a case of unpacking and finding everything, and finding more importantly homes for everything in a pedantic Virgoan way, who me – yep. So far I’ve shovelled all the kitchen stuff under the kitchen sink for later sorting. The kitchen drawer already resembles a kitchen drawer, i.e not a tine of cutlery. The windowsill reserved for herbs, doesn’t quite work out, it’s too deep and not quite wide enough for my current window boxes, so they are precariously balanced on various china that hasn’t found a home yet. Why have I got 2 teapots. Vases are another thing, where do people keep their vases? I’ve put them up on top of the cupboards, but there is that lovely layer of kitchen grease and grim to be addressed up there when I get time, and they’re not giving off the Conranesque collected loveliness I desire. Mum’s old tins that used to have Xmas decorations in, priceless, homeless. The bookcase joy of joys has found a rather snug dwelling in the hallway, out of Erbie’s ever widening grasp. It is piled with paperwork and magazines, 1970’s Vogue anyone, French Elle, all the Kate Moss and SJP covers, thank goodness I don’t get Grazia on a regular basis, and of course some books. The Ottoman may actually get used for it’s real purpose instead of a coffee table and electrical storage. I even have my own joy of joys, clothes rail, we’ve been sharing for years. Now my clothes have room to breathe and I feel decisions like everything must be hung in outfits coming on, and more hangers. There are curtains to be got, white out blinds the prefered choice don’t come in anything like long enough from regular retailers, and custom-mades are just a bit too pricey to leave behind. I may proposition the managing agents at a later date. For now the only place that does anything over 200cm length is Ikea, so off I trundle, Erbie strapped to my front on the Bakerloo line to Stonebridge, then a free shuttle bus to Ikea. There are several ‘streetcar’s in the parking area, if only I drove. The blinds I fancied are far too see-through so I plump for curtains, pick up a couple of essentials such as lime green funnels and black rubber gloves, a few textiles and we’re off. Well off as far as waiting for the shuttle bus back. On the tube I end up with a carriage full of women googling over Erbie, while he flirts shamelessly, making the journey back seem short. Due to the credit card fiasco I’m cashless, so can’t even get a taxi from Oxford Circus, bah. Friends come to lunch on Saturday and cook lamb for us in the kitchen with a dying mans broad beans, and minted new potatoes, which all tastes lovely, vegetarianism trully gone. They lend us their Ka and we’re all set for 10 days running the country pub, only we’re not as I don’t know where anything is and it takes ages to pack, we set off on Sunday around 12 o’ clock, not bad going you may think, not so good seeing as we were all up with the sun and Erbie at 5am. John Lewis sell black-out material, this is to be my return project!



This is a view of the new flat from the old flat!