I had been telling Mum for the past couple of months that I could definitely help her move on the 28th October and so, amazingly, given all the vagaries of the moving process Mum swung it for that day. Only for my tiny brain to comprehend that if I did it on that day it would be straight after night duty & on no sleep.
Should you ever decide to help someone move on little sleep, please, allow me to save you some time & just repeatedly slam your hand in a car door – it’s easier.
I left a very busy control room at 0200 on Friday morning, handing over to the Silver Fox who was busy guiding a prisoner through the drink drive process in custody. ‘Blow, keep going … keep going …keep going.’
I allowed the sounds of a night time nick in full swing to fade behind me as I piled into Henry & set off towards the M1.
After an impressive performance from Henry we arrived, delay-free in North Yorkshire at 0700. Declining Mum’s offer of tea & breakfast I flopped into bed & was asleep at 0720. Mum knocked on the door at 0815 to inform me the removal men would be arriving at 0830. If you’ve done nights you’ll know how I was feeling, if not, imagine going to work after a 24 hours long haul flight.
After persuading the moggies they would be happier in the bathroom, I started wrapping all the vases & pots in bubble wrap & lashings of packing tape. I thought it showed commendable confidence in me that Mum let me tackle the ‘fragiles’ then it occurred to me that at that stage of the game she didn’t care what I was doing as long as I was doing something. Meanwhile, after initially saying she wouldn’t have time to clean, Mum went from room to room, packing, cleaning & directing operations.
The removal men duly appeared, bluff, cheerful youngsters who worked solidly for the next 11 hours. They even remained on speaking terms whilst manoeuvering a wardrobe down an angled staircase, something which reduces me to a paroxysm of ‘inanimate object’ rage.
With scarcely a backward glance we left Mum’s cosy stone cottage & headed off for pastures new. Mum had described her new house to me on the phone but hadn’t really done it justice. The previous owner had left it in a condition where she could unpack & not have to do a thing.
He had left expensive light fittings, matching lamps, paintings, mirrors & wooden carved kitties. Going one step further there were a row of neatly labelled envelopes on the window sill, containing all the keys for the house & directions for ‘bin day’ as well as the mobile number of the local window cleaner. As if that wasn’t enough, upon entering the kitchen Mum found teabags & milk so that we could get on with the most important ‘moving-in tradition’.
What a gent, & not even gay, as he was moving out to live with a woman. Take a bow Mr. _______
The house is bright & airy & despite being in a less rural location than the last one, makes up for it by having commanding views over the hills towards the city skyline.
As Mum observed, the view is so far-reaching that ‘you can see the weather before it arrives.’
The best thing about the house was it felt like ‘home’ immediately, something evidenced by the cats who, upon being liberated from the bathroom, promptly walked around exploring. If you have cats, you’ll know that the moving process usually reduces them to slinky, nervous, wild creatures who will move from room to room on their bellies. Clancy & Hazel marched around, talking loudly, tails held aloft, checking & approving each new pile of boxes.
At 8pm we headed down to Doreen’s, aware that we were starving & intent on abusing her hospitality.
‘I measured it with ma eyes …’
Mum has often told me about Doreen & I knew I was in for an experience. It’s at times like these I wish my blog came with sound. Doreen is Maltese & has lived in Yorkshire since 16 so her accent is the most startling mix of rolling Mediterranean consonants & flat Yorkshire vowels.
If you’ve seen ‘League of Gentlemen’ Doreen’s speech cadence is very similar to that of Papa Lazarou.
She regaled us with stories from the moment we arrived to our departure & eyes twinkling she would frequently ask us ‘You taking the pee from me or what ?’
In the candle-lit gloom of her front room, she motioned to a piece of furniture & asked Mum if she liked it. ‘I can’t see it’, was Mum’s response, so Doreen put the ‘big light on’. Once we could see the piece in question Doreen explained that she had bought it at auction. She then found she could not fit it in the corner of the room she wished to because her bay window seat was too large. ‘S’ok though, cos I jus sawed through my window seat to make it fit.’
‘But Doreen’ I asked somewhat naively, ‘didn’t you measure it before you bought it ?’
‘Aw yeah’ came the breezy reply ‘I measured it with ma eyes.’
My other favourite was when she told us how, whilst watching tv one evening, she became aware the security light in her back garden was going on & off. Sneaking a look outside, she saw her neighbour cleaning her fence in the dark. She was activating Doreen’s security light by waving her arm in the direction of the sensor.
Using her front door to remain unseen, Doreen crept into her garage & the next time the security light was off she flicked the main power switch off with the explanation …
‘She’s not using ma bloody electricity to do her cleaning.’
Mum & I left, & headed for home, giggling in the dark & occasionally saying to one another …
‘I measured it with ma eyes.’
Excellent.
On Saturday after a good sleep we did some gentle unpacking, made one room box-free & took Barley for a leg stretch around Mum’s local park. It was a memory-fest for both of us ; Mum muttering to herself ‘& that’s where George, David & I used to go’ whilst looking at the shelters around the pond whilst I remembered sulking when being brought home from the circus at the same park because I had lost my beaded purse.
By all accounts I was a thoroughly unpleasant child to take anywhere, sulking because I didn’t want to stop playing to go anywhere in the first place, then sulking on the way home because I didn’t want to leave.
After a non-hassle heated up meal we lit the fire on Saturday evening & had a thoroughly pleasant time re-hashing family history. Or to put it more accurately I read one of Mum’s Everest books whilst Mum talked at me. Only joking Mum, it was a lovely evening. One by one the animals crowded around the fire until they were all prone & gasping & we agreed it was too hot & turned the fire off, much to the their dismay.
Sunday morning saw us moving pots & tubs from Doreen’s garden after another quick leg-stretch at the park & at midday I headed off for home, via Rutland to see Malcolm, Justine & the new arrival.
I arrived in Rutland at 3 & after a swift hello to baby & Malcolm, Justine & I were just in time to catch the end of her horse William’s jumping lesson. William is being exercised by a young girl whose name escapes me but she’s doing a great job with him & William looked a treat, full of energy & going beautifully on the bit.
On the journey back from the stables Justine & I discussed motherhood & everything that Justine said confirmed to me that I’m not ready now, if ever, to have my life disrupted to that extent. I know after 4 weeks of disrupted sleep it’s exhaustion speaking but Justine’s précis that ‘her life has been hi-jacked’ sounds a little too scary to me.
After a quick dog-walk, a cup of tea & a catch up on news, I left them in peace & headed for Surrey.
It says much for our roads that the journey which took me 3.5 hours at night time took me 7 hours in the daytime to get back. I wasn’t happy. It was with relief that I opened the door to the flat & dumped my luggage. Looking around I was amazed by what I saw. The flat which I had left in disarray at 0200 on Thursday was now immaculate at 2100 on Sunday ?
My mind struggled to explain what had happened. Tidy, cleaning burglars ? Seemed unlikely. The truth came out after a chat with Milky. Over the weekend we had talked on the phone & hearing lots of noise at his end I had asked him what he was doing ?
‘Just filling a sink’ came his reply & I envisaged him washing up at his place. ‘Would you mind not doing it until we’ve finished talking ?’ I asked him ‘I’m struggling to hear you.’ I felt like the world’s biggest bitch as it dawned on me that I’d asked him to stop cleaning & tidying my flat & he’d never said a word.
On Tuesday we headed off for some badly-needed outdoors time. Leith Hill was beckoning. I lived there some years ago & feel it’s pull at this time of year when I need to be with trees. Autumn has been spectacular so far & because we haven’t had a frost yet the trees have kept their leaves. Temperatures don’t dip below 16 in the daytime & last Thursday we hit 22 which isn’t bad for June, let alone October.
We walked all around the hill, accompanied by a mad, galloping Barley, or Barley Pie-Thief as she shall henceforth be known after stealing my lunch. It was a wonderful day, I could feel the mental kinks being ironed out & I revelled in happy memories of Gaynor & our walks there.
We rounded off the evening with a dinner in a delightful old country pub & then headed off for the M25 to take Barley home.
On Wednesday evening the girls came to mine for food, drinks & a catch up. The whole gang were in attendance, Weeny, Trudes, Cocky & the Lovely Ang aka Artichoke Lady & we calculated the last time we had all been together was 16 months ago last July at the now extinct Barn Dance. Cocky & I also realised that since I moved in, she hadn’t seen the flat, so it made sense for my place to be the venue.
I escaped any responsibility or effort by serving up heated party food. I reasoned that I didn’t want to be in the kitchen whilst they talked, otherwise I might miss something. Serving champagne distracted them from noticing that I hadn’t cooked anything.
We had several reasons to celebrate ; Weeny’s new job & Lovely Angie resigning from her job in which she ‘makes obnoxious French people wealthy’ amongst others.
Lovely Ang has taken the brave step, prompted by health concerns after her very frightening DVT episode to resign from her well-paid but stressful job with ridiculous travel to take up floristry. It says much about her that after only three Saturdays at a florists, they have offered her a full-time job. She cheerfully admits that she will find the huge difference in pay daunting but is adamant that her health comes first. Well done you.
And that’s about everything, Stan’s just texted me to say Murray’s told him to get on my case about not writing, so Murray … this one’s for you hippy.
On the agenda
Hotel in the Lakes early next week,
Dublin for Cocky’s birthday at the end of the week.
Have a great time, whatever your plans are.
Michelle – Get well soon.
Cx
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