It felt as if the countdown to my moving was getting underway today, ten days and the check out from my tenancy would be done and I would be driving north to start the next chapter of my life.
My brother had come round to go through two storage boxes of old photographs which included photos of our great grandparents, something we had been putting off. The two storage boxes had already been distilled from two further boxes on the first cull! Maybe I should explain I had inherited photographs from my parents who in turn still had photographs from their parents’ collections. There are only so many photographs one can have of the same person!!
My solution has been to take photographs of those that are of interest on my phone so they can be stored in the ether without taking up any space. My plan is that this is the first move I am going to make where nothing gets stored. There is just one box left now of my own family which needs sorting then job done. So I was feeling positive another step on the way to moving accomplished.
Then the phone call. I have been babysitting a dog, Bear…aptly named, for a while. It was going to be seven months to the day when he was returning to his owners. Special transport had been booked, money set aside to cover it. The required professional cleaning required by the landlady following a pet being in residence booked. Council Tax notified of my leaving date, direct debits cancelled. I have never been so organised.
The gentleman transporting Bear called and said that his hand is in plaster following an op and his physio had laid down the law he was not to do any driving that week. The earliest he could do was the 3rd October. Damn, or whatever other expletives come to mind.
Everything was booked for me to be moved by 30th September. I was so disappointed. For all my excitement and anticipation at the move I had been keeping it strictly in check until this morning when it really did seem as if the countdown had started. Life would be getting back to normal following the funeral and the period of mourning following the Queen’s death everything was organised.
Famous last words. So now, I tell myself everything for a reason. The landlady has agreed a week’s extension, messages have been left with the carpet cleaner. It will work itself out. I will continue rearranging everything tomorrow. One of my guiding principles is “don’t push the river”, or simply go with the flow. There is nothing I can do about it. I am sure the gentleman did not find himself in the position of having to cancel deliberately, so the best thing I can do is live with it, accepting what has happened as gracefully as I can.