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A Moving Story.
Jun. 19th, 2012 08:22 pmI am knackered. In the last week, I have made the journey between London and Edinburgh three times, the last driving with Talisker on the passenger seat (in a catbox, I hasten to add) - a journey that took nearly eight hours.
Talisker was remarkably good - much, much better than I could have hoped for - for most if the journey. He miaowed non stop for ten minutes at the start, and was then fine despite despite erm soiling the newspaper bedding in the catbox twice ((![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
widgetfox advised that I use newspaper and take lots of it, and I will eternally grateful for her advice) - both times I pulled in to the next motorway service station, changed the newspaper, cleaned the catbox and got on the way. Talisker was fine about it. Then, after another seven hours and 380 miles, 95% of the journey done, he started miaowing in a deep, Exorcist-like voice - and he threw up. He was very, very clever: he avoided throwing up in the catbox; instead, he managed to direct all of his undigested breakfast from eight hours earlier all over me and the car. I had to drive until I could find somewhere to pull over. I cleaned the catbox - which was really only the bars - and removed solid matter from my clothing and the car seats, and drove on. When I finally arrived, there was ominous smoke coming from beneath the bonnet of the hire car. None of the dashboard warning lights was lit, and it was handling fine. I told the staff at the hire company when I returned the case and they didn't seem too bothered.
(Talisker seems to have settled in fine. And he seems happy not to be outside. He does seem very interested in the large gulls that glide past the windows, though.)
My furniture - and tens of boxes of books - arrived a couple of hours later. They took three or for hours to unload it all, and last werewidgetfox's wonderful sofas, which she lent me when I moved into my little house in London. They are wonderful because of their size, making them very comfortable. Unfortunately, their size made it impossible for the two removal men to get them into my flat. They tried very hard, and to be honest, had they succeeded, I doubt they'd have got them into the living room itself: it would have been very tight. So they had to take two sofas back to London. (They've been put into storage whilst widgetfox considers what to do with them.)
This means my living room is empty aside from my hifi, my computer, piles of books, a couple of large bookcases and several empty boxes. And five hundred-odd CDs. And four hundred LPs.
I have spent the last three days unpacking clothes, kitchen stuff, CDs, and books. Lots of books. Hundreds - thousands - of books. I also spent yesterday afternoon to sort out my energy suppliers. (I haven't sorted my phone or ISP. I'm writing this on my phone. I can see getting the internet being an issue...)
This isn't really a great job for someone, like myself, who isn't a completer-finisher. There are a very great many distractions. Every object has stories, memories associated with it. I have things going back over thirty years - piles of Puffin Books going back much further; a couple of mugs; thousands of photographic negatives; photographs and paintings; gifts loved and unwanted.
Talisker was remarkably good - much, much better than I could have hoped for - for most if the journey. He miaowed non stop for ten minutes at the start, and was then fine despite despite erm soiling the newspaper bedding in the catbox twice ((
widgetfox advised that I use newspaper and take lots of it, and I will eternally grateful for her advice) - both times I pulled in to the next motorway service station, changed the newspaper, cleaned the catbox and got on the way. Talisker was fine about it. Then, after another seven hours and 380 miles, 95% of the journey done, he started miaowing in a deep, Exorcist-like voice - and he threw up. He was very, very clever: he avoided throwing up in the catbox; instead, he managed to direct all of his undigested breakfast from eight hours earlier all over me and the car. I had to drive until I could find somewhere to pull over. I cleaned the catbox - which was really only the bars - and removed solid matter from my clothing and the car seats, and drove on. When I finally arrived, there was ominous smoke coming from beneath the bonnet of the hire car. None of the dashboard warning lights was lit, and it was handling fine. I told the staff at the hire company when I returned the case and they didn't seem too bothered.(Talisker seems to have settled in fine. And he seems happy not to be outside. He does seem very interested in the large gulls that glide past the windows, though.)
My furniture - and tens of boxes of books - arrived a couple of hours later. They took three or for hours to unload it all, and last were
widgetfox's wonderful sofas, which she lent me when I moved into my little house in London. They are wonderful because of their size, making them very comfortable. Unfortunately, their size made it impossible for the two removal men to get them into my flat. They tried very hard, and to be honest, had they succeeded, I doubt they'd have got them into the living room itself: it would have been very tight. So they had to take two sofas back to London. (They've been put into storage whilst widgetfox considers what to do with them.)This means my living room is empty aside from my hifi, my computer, piles of books, a couple of large bookcases and several empty boxes. And five hundred-odd CDs. And four hundred LPs.
I have spent the last three days unpacking clothes, kitchen stuff, CDs, and books. Lots of books. Hundreds - thousands - of books. I also spent yesterday afternoon to sort out my energy suppliers. (I haven't sorted my phone or ISP. I'm writing this on my phone. I can see getting the internet being an issue...)
This isn't really a great job for someone, like myself, who isn't a completer-finisher. There are a very great many distractions. Every object has stories, memories associated with it. I have things going back over thirty years - piles of Puffin Books going back much further; a couple of mugs; thousands of photographic negatives; photographs and paintings; gifts loved and unwanted.