Of course, a "Friday to Monday" is the posh version of a weekend, which for you and me is usually just Saturday and Sunday. Anyway, I was lucky enough to have Son and his family here actually from Friday to Monday, and as they had been 'busy busy' in London for the previous week they were looking forward to a restful time, and to catching up with Daughter and her family. - though I'm not too sure that the two things were conducive to each other .
As it happened, we all met up at the new Crazy Golf at the Marina on Saturday (luckily all under cover as it was a foul day) and had great fun. There were 8 of us, including 2 three-year-olds, big Grandson who's 13, the two couples and me - so all the generations were represented, and perhaps fortunately Daughter's new bloke didn't bring any of his three children - or the dog! (And anyway I suspect dogs would not be allowed.) As you can imagine, it was a mixed event, with big Grandson mostly acting as referee with the three yr olds, and the rest of us trailing along behind. We were split into two teams (four girls and four boys) and I won the girls' event, with Son winning the boys'.. Afterwards we all retired to Cafe Rouge for a coffee and by then the ice was broken (if there was any to begin with) between the two families. It's not easy especially when Son and his lot live in Barcelona now and Daughter has a frantically busy job, her two children, a new man with 3 children (and a dog) and very little free time. I sit on the sidelines mostly, simply doing what I can to make sure that relationships between them are good. But as we all know, a Mother's place is in the wrong, so I tread carefully.
Next this week is big Grandson's third ear operation in a year. He has had a rotten time with painful ear infections and this time last year he had his first set of gromits put in. They were not entirely successful so he had a second operation in the Summer, and now he needs a third op, which is scheduled for tomorrow (Tuesday) and which may also involve having his adenoids removed. The last time we went for a check-up, the Consultant took a long look inside the offending ears and said "Your tubes are rubbish William!" Poor chap, he never complains though it must be pretty miserable for him. We shall see what happens tomorrow, and I rather hope that the surgeon decides to remove
his adenoids anyway, though it does mean he would have to have to have a week off school to avoid any germs or infections. I guess that means a week with me, but I don't mind at all. We can get cosy with some nice food and a film or two.
Monday, February 5, 2018
Thursday, February 1, 2018
Blue Moon..
Last night was one of those rare nights when I tossed and turned and just couldn't go back to sleep. I don't really mind them too much, because I don't have to leap out of bed early for work any more, so I can catch up easily. But last night I was aware of the significance of the full moon - apparently a super blue blood moon, which appears once in 150 years, and there was going to be an eclipse too.
Well, it looked just like the normal moon to me, and I popped out of bed three or four times to check on it. It was very bright though, and I gazed at the stars for a bit, wishing I was in an area with less light pollution so that I could see more of them.
Back to bed and I ended up trying to sing myself to sleep. I go through a regular repertoire, beginning with lullabies I used to sing to the children and often going on to the complete Ella Fitzgerald song books: Cole Porter, Rodgers and Hart etc.. I know all of these off by heart because I had the old vinyl albums when I were a girl, and can repeat every phrase and note still, after all these years. I guess it must have worked anyway, because I woke again at 8.30, feeling fairly chipper. I can't remember how far I got through the albums, but I know that at one point I was singing:
"I could cry salty tears, where have I been all these years.." For those of you who may not know these lovely lyrics, that's from "How long has this been going on?"
And there's another Blue Moon connection, which funnily enough I was talking to my Sister about
just the other day. She remembered that I used to sing that very song, dressed in a long, midnight blue evening dress with (wait for it) a boned bodice and wonderfully full net skirt! That was when I sang occasionally with a local group called the Terry Graham Trio, consisting of Terry Lovelock on drums, Graham Bond on any instrument you could care to name, and Bob Somebody on the piano. (Apologies for not remembering Bob's surname, but it was roughly a hundred years ago!)
I was about 17 at the time and we used to play for 6th form dances and wedding receptions. And "Blue Moon" was one of our regular songs. Graham went on to be very famous, he was so talented it was quite breathtaking - he played the piano, keyboards, vibes and all the saxophones, and the trio specialised in modern jazz, so Ella Fitzgerald songs were a natural choice. I used to get terribly nervous, so I wasn't a great success. but we had such fun. Sadly, Graham committed suicide a long time ago now, though not before he formed the Graham Bond Organisation with Ginger Baker (that old reprobate). Drugs were Graham's downfall and though I saw him a few times during those years,
he really wasn't the old Graham any more. Terry and I have remained friends all these years, and both ended up working in Advertising, which I suppose you could say was another kind of drug - though
not quite as life-threatening.
Heavens, how time slips away - I've got to get going. Son and family are coming for the weekend before they fly back to Barcelona, so I have a list as long as your arm. I have to get the right cereal, milk (not cow's), bread, fruit and veg. And do a bit of cooking in advance - I might have another try at baking Madeleines, which were quite successful last time. And it's big Grandson's Options Evening at school this evening. I have said I will go and help him and Daughter, so that's my day sorted.
Well, it looked just like the normal moon to me, and I popped out of bed three or four times to check on it. It was very bright though, and I gazed at the stars for a bit, wishing I was in an area with less light pollution so that I could see more of them.
Back to bed and I ended up trying to sing myself to sleep. I go through a regular repertoire, beginning with lullabies I used to sing to the children and often going on to the complete Ella Fitzgerald song books: Cole Porter, Rodgers and Hart etc.. I know all of these off by heart because I had the old vinyl albums when I were a girl, and can repeat every phrase and note still, after all these years. I guess it must have worked anyway, because I woke again at 8.30, feeling fairly chipper. I can't remember how far I got through the albums, but I know that at one point I was singing:
"I could cry salty tears, where have I been all these years.." For those of you who may not know these lovely lyrics, that's from "How long has this been going on?"
And there's another Blue Moon connection, which funnily enough I was talking to my Sister about
just the other day. She remembered that I used to sing that very song, dressed in a long, midnight blue evening dress with (wait for it) a boned bodice and wonderfully full net skirt! That was when I sang occasionally with a local group called the Terry Graham Trio, consisting of Terry Lovelock on drums, Graham Bond on any instrument you could care to name, and Bob Somebody on the piano. (Apologies for not remembering Bob's surname, but it was roughly a hundred years ago!)
I was about 17 at the time and we used to play for 6th form dances and wedding receptions. And "Blue Moon" was one of our regular songs. Graham went on to be very famous, he was so talented it was quite breathtaking - he played the piano, keyboards, vibes and all the saxophones, and the trio specialised in modern jazz, so Ella Fitzgerald songs were a natural choice. I used to get terribly nervous, so I wasn't a great success. but we had such fun. Sadly, Graham committed suicide a long time ago now, though not before he formed the Graham Bond Organisation with Ginger Baker (that old reprobate). Drugs were Graham's downfall and though I saw him a few times during those years,
he really wasn't the old Graham any more. Terry and I have remained friends all these years, and both ended up working in Advertising, which I suppose you could say was another kind of drug - though
not quite as life-threatening.
Heavens, how time slips away - I've got to get going. Son and family are coming for the weekend before they fly back to Barcelona, so I have a list as long as your arm. I have to get the right cereal, milk (not cow's), bread, fruit and veg. And do a bit of cooking in advance - I might have another try at baking Madeleines, which were quite successful last time. And it's big Grandson's Options Evening at school this evening. I have said I will go and help him and Daughter, so that's my day sorted.
Tuesday, January 30, 2018
Hello Again ...
It is so long since I last had a chat with you all - if you are still out there - that I hardly know where to begin! Two years is a long time in any life, and with children and grandchildren racing on with their lives, it's rather like a fast-forwarded film.
For a start, I'm two years older, and that sometimes seems a lot. I've now got a dodgy knee to go with the dodgy eyes and ears, all of which cause my children to be (understandably) short tempered and to often say, in exasperation "Oh for goodness sake Mum" when I can't keep up with either the conversation or the walking speed. Though on the whole they are rather better tempered about it all than I am. I get regularly furious with my diminishing abilities and often swear loudly, even if I'm the only one in earshot.
Still I have lots to be grateful for. because my brain seems to be keeping up and though I have shaky hands as well, they don't alarm me as much as they alarm friends and family who often ask if I drop things. (I don't.) I did ask my doctor if they were anything to worry about, and after asking me lots of pertinent questions. she suggested that a glass of wine might help. I assured her that we were on the same wavelength as I regularly enjoy a glass of wine with dinner, and that was that.
No doubt you're thinking that you would rather hear about my family than all this, so here goes:
Son and his lovely Polish partner are now the proud owners of a delightful 3 year old son, little Jasper, who is as bright a button as you could ever imagine. They have been living in Barcelona for just over a year, and really enjoying life there. And as it's more or less continual blue skies and sunshine, I'm not really surprised. I have been a regular visitor to their lovely rented apartment which is only 5 minutes walk to the beach. My last visit, over New Year, was so nice and even warm enough to sit in the sun. It was such a wonderful antidote to our grey and gloomy winter.
Little Jasper goes to Nursery School there, and besides being fluent in both English and Polish, he is also learning Spanish and Catalan! It's pretty amazing to have four languages before his fourth birthday I know. And he is totally into Spiderman (has the whole costume and mask) and the Spurs (Harry Kane and Dele Alli are his favourites - of course we are a Spurs family, so that's not surprising). So all in all, he is a total delight, though I may be a bit biased.
Daughter's family has been much more complicated over the last two years - at times it has been rather like a full-on earthquake! I'll gloss over the worst bits, but my lovely older Grandson Will, is now 13 (and much taller than me of course) and has acquired a new adoptive Father, who is Daughter's now ex-partner (don't ask) and the natural father of my little grand-daughter, Gracie, now 3 and a complete delight too. But I fear that they have all had a very wobbly couple of years. Daughter moved out of the house, and the relationship, early last year, and has now moved into a new house and a new relationship! I must say that she is completely fearless where relationships are concerned - which she certainly doesn't get from me - and I'm sure that things will work themselves out. But, as my friends and I say, you couldn't make it up!
I think that's probably enough for now, and about as much as you might want to absorb and reflect on. It has certainly given me several pauses for thought and a few sleepless nights too. I'll catch up again soon and bring you up to date with my future plans.
I have missed you all, and writing this blog, and I promise not to disappear again for two years!
For a start, I'm two years older, and that sometimes seems a lot. I've now got a dodgy knee to go with the dodgy eyes and ears, all of which cause my children to be (understandably) short tempered and to often say, in exasperation "Oh for goodness sake Mum" when I can't keep up with either the conversation or the walking speed. Though on the whole they are rather better tempered about it all than I am. I get regularly furious with my diminishing abilities and often swear loudly, even if I'm the only one in earshot.
Still I have lots to be grateful for. because my brain seems to be keeping up and though I have shaky hands as well, they don't alarm me as much as they alarm friends and family who often ask if I drop things. (I don't.) I did ask my doctor if they were anything to worry about, and after asking me lots of pertinent questions. she suggested that a glass of wine might help. I assured her that we were on the same wavelength as I regularly enjoy a glass of wine with dinner, and that was that.
No doubt you're thinking that you would rather hear about my family than all this, so here goes:
Son and his lovely Polish partner are now the proud owners of a delightful 3 year old son, little Jasper, who is as bright a button as you could ever imagine. They have been living in Barcelona for just over a year, and really enjoying life there. And as it's more or less continual blue skies and sunshine, I'm not really surprised. I have been a regular visitor to their lovely rented apartment which is only 5 minutes walk to the beach. My last visit, over New Year, was so nice and even warm enough to sit in the sun. It was such a wonderful antidote to our grey and gloomy winter.
Little Jasper goes to Nursery School there, and besides being fluent in both English and Polish, he is also learning Spanish and Catalan! It's pretty amazing to have four languages before his fourth birthday I know. And he is totally into Spiderman (has the whole costume and mask) and the Spurs (Harry Kane and Dele Alli are his favourites - of course we are a Spurs family, so that's not surprising). So all in all, he is a total delight, though I may be a bit biased.
Daughter's family has been much more complicated over the last two years - at times it has been rather like a full-on earthquake! I'll gloss over the worst bits, but my lovely older Grandson Will, is now 13 (and much taller than me of course) and has acquired a new adoptive Father, who is Daughter's now ex-partner (don't ask) and the natural father of my little grand-daughter, Gracie, now 3 and a complete delight too. But I fear that they have all had a very wobbly couple of years. Daughter moved out of the house, and the relationship, early last year, and has now moved into a new house and a new relationship! I must say that she is completely fearless where relationships are concerned - which she certainly doesn't get from me - and I'm sure that things will work themselves out. But, as my friends and I say, you couldn't make it up!
I think that's probably enough for now, and about as much as you might want to absorb and reflect on. It has certainly given me several pauses for thought and a few sleepless nights too. I'll catch up again soon and bring you up to date with my future plans.
I have missed you all, and writing this blog, and I promise not to disappear again for two years!
Sunday, June 28, 2015
A Moving Story
Well, here I am in another place - I'm renting a flat in Hove - very near to where I was living until one week ago. By golly it was a bit of a sweat moving after nearly 13 years, and I was in a practically comatose state immediately afterwards.
Packing up and leaving was the most difficult part - as I knew it would be. Even now it's all a blur.
And I'm pretty sure that half of the stuff I decided to keep will be redundant when it finally comes out of storage. This all part of the process though, because some of the decisions were too hard to make on the spot. I know it's daft, and it's mostly only pieces of furniture, but they were all chosen with care and love, and have shared our lives for many years - like old friends really.
Anyway, it has all gone off in the van and into a shipping container for 3 months, while the work is going on at my 'new' house. The removers were great, worked very hard and were mostly cheerful. I just hope that everything emerges intact in the end.
I have done very little except fall asleep during the last week - a result of the emotional upheaval and stress I'm sure. Little by little it is improving and I'm able to stay awake for longer, which sounds as though I'm in recovery doesn't it?
I'm still the practical one though, and have a file with plans, design ideas, notes and quotes, all ready to go for the refurbishment. It's as if I'm two people at the moment - one efficient and on the ball, and the other adrift in limbo. I know who has to win, so I'll just keep on fighting the sleeping sickness...
My chosen builders have everything under control; we are meeting tomorrow to go over the plans and they are going to start clearing out the house completely. The old kitchen has already gone to a new home. courtesy of my trusty old handyman, Dave, and there is only some disgustingly dirty carpet, old curtains and poles, radiators and old pipework left to go. I went over to have a look today, and can't wait to see it gutted and ready to go.
So there we are, or here I am - it feels strange but not necessarily bad, Time to move on,
Packing up and leaving was the most difficult part - as I knew it would be. Even now it's all a blur.
And I'm pretty sure that half of the stuff I decided to keep will be redundant when it finally comes out of storage. This all part of the process though, because some of the decisions were too hard to make on the spot. I know it's daft, and it's mostly only pieces of furniture, but they were all chosen with care and love, and have shared our lives for many years - like old friends really.
Anyway, it has all gone off in the van and into a shipping container for 3 months, while the work is going on at my 'new' house. The removers were great, worked very hard and were mostly cheerful. I just hope that everything emerges intact in the end.
I have done very little except fall asleep during the last week - a result of the emotional upheaval and stress I'm sure. Little by little it is improving and I'm able to stay awake for longer, which sounds as though I'm in recovery doesn't it?
I'm still the practical one though, and have a file with plans, design ideas, notes and quotes, all ready to go for the refurbishment. It's as if I'm two people at the moment - one efficient and on the ball, and the other adrift in limbo. I know who has to win, so I'll just keep on fighting the sleeping sickness...
My chosen builders have everything under control; we are meeting tomorrow to go over the plans and they are going to start clearing out the house completely. The old kitchen has already gone to a new home. courtesy of my trusty old handyman, Dave, and there is only some disgustingly dirty carpet, old curtains and poles, radiators and old pipework left to go. I went over to have a look today, and can't wait to see it gutted and ready to go.
So there we are, or here I am - it feels strange but not necessarily bad, Time to move on,
Wednesday, May 20, 2015
Stressed-Out City
Not my best day so far - it started with feeling sick with apprehension when I got up, but not with any particular reason. I soon learned though, when my Solicitor rang me to say that the person I'm buying from had apparently received "an independent cash offer" from person unknown and that if I can't exchange by this Friday they may sell to this "person". Then I really felt sick! So the rest of today has been filled with phone calls. panic and a feeling of stressed out helplessness. I must say that this vendor behaved similarly when I first offered on the house, threatening to sell to someone else if I didn't stump up an extra 10 thousand. At that time, I agreed because that actually brought the house price up to the asking price, and I felt it was really worth the money. This time, however, I'm not feeling so generous - and not that any extra money has been mentioned anyway. It has just totally wobbled me after such a long time and when we are so close to Exchange. I think we have avoided disaster, and everyone has actually spoken to everyone else today, which has hopefully sorted it out. Fingers crossed.
I've been totally submerged in negotiations with builders, plumbers, electricians and removers over the last couple of weeks, and of course it's all going to cost more than I had hoped originally - how could I be so naive as to imagine that total refurbishment could be cheap, or even reasonable? No wonder the builders, plumbers, electricians etc are all so charming, helpful and amenable - they're all earning a bloody fortune! Not that I'm complaining, I've got to the stage where I just want to get on with it, at (almost) any price.
Family news: the children had a visit from their Father who, as you may remember, has been living in New Zealand for the past nearly 20 years. He is now married to wifie number 4, 25 years his junior, and has prostate cancer. I guess he came over to see the new babies, since it's unlikely that either Son or Daughter would be able to make the journey there (or afford it). And maybe he senses that his time is limited - I don't know, and as I wasn't planning to see him I couldn't ask. Anyway I think the visit was pretty much as expected - he brought presents for everyone and still managed to rub a few people up the wrong way; that is a particular talent of his which doesn't seem to have faded with time.
I'm going up to London tomorrow to help Son and his partner with the baby for a couple of days.
Lovely - I'm going on the train and coming back with them in the car on Saturday. I had forgotten it's the Bank Holiday, so just hope the traffic won't be too bad... I hope that when I catch up with you again there will have been proper progress in my property saga.
Have a lovely weekend, I'm looking forward to some sunshine.
I've been totally submerged in negotiations with builders, plumbers, electricians and removers over the last couple of weeks, and of course it's all going to cost more than I had hoped originally - how could I be so naive as to imagine that total refurbishment could be cheap, or even reasonable? No wonder the builders, plumbers, electricians etc are all so charming, helpful and amenable - they're all earning a bloody fortune! Not that I'm complaining, I've got to the stage where I just want to get on with it, at (almost) any price.
Family news: the children had a visit from their Father who, as you may remember, has been living in New Zealand for the past nearly 20 years. He is now married to wifie number 4, 25 years his junior, and has prostate cancer. I guess he came over to see the new babies, since it's unlikely that either Son or Daughter would be able to make the journey there (or afford it). And maybe he senses that his time is limited - I don't know, and as I wasn't planning to see him I couldn't ask. Anyway I think the visit was pretty much as expected - he brought presents for everyone and still managed to rub a few people up the wrong way; that is a particular talent of his which doesn't seem to have faded with time.
I'm going up to London tomorrow to help Son and his partner with the baby for a couple of days.
Lovely - I'm going on the train and coming back with them in the car on Saturday. I had forgotten it's the Bank Holiday, so just hope the traffic won't be too bad... I hope that when I catch up with you again there will have been proper progress in my property saga.
Have a lovely weekend, I'm looking forward to some sunshine.
Wednesday, May 6, 2015
A New Leaf
Nobody would know it's May here - it's cold as Christmas and really miserable. I'm soldiering on with my plans, writing notes and specifications and measuring, drawing out room sizes and trying to fit things in generally. It's not going to be easy, but as I go along I'm actually getting used to the idea
of downsizing. It's amazing how difficult this is as a concept because I suppose we spend most of our lives making a home, which usually means acquiring the stuff we need and like. It's a kind of emotional padding which we get comfortable with, and which we look forward to seeing and feeling every day. It's all part of our precious family structure and in my case it was doubly precious because my two children and I were a wonderfully close family. It was always us against the world, and when I look around at the chairs and books, the rugs and pictures and all the paraphernalia of family life which accompanied us through that journey, it tugs at my heart to think that much of it will be going. I can only hope that it will go somewhere where it may be appreciated in the same way. Silly me, I know it's only stuff, but it's our stuff, our family.
Of course it's also to do with acknowledging the fact that I'm getting older and I'm not the centre of their world any more. Fine, that's life and it's ok - I'm probably making too much of it, My nest has been empty for a while now, and I need to get on with my new life.
Turning over a new leaf means I will be taking time out, once my new house is done and dusted, and travelling. I'll be heading for some sun, and fun, and first will be joining my lovely BBF in Majorca, where she is renting an apartment in Palma. Actually she phoned me this evening, just when I was feeling rather sorry for myself and overwhelmed by it all. And just talking to her and laughing a bit made everything seem better.
For some reason, it reminded me of a film I saw many years ago, called "A New Leaf" with Walter Matthau and Elaine May. He's looking for a new wife and she is a scatty, plain woman who keeps dropping things and putting her foot in it. She's a social disaster and not at all what everyone expects him to be attracted to, but as he looks at her across the room, and sees all her imperfections, he mutters "She's perfect". It's a great comic moment. Funny the things you remember!
of downsizing. It's amazing how difficult this is as a concept because I suppose we spend most of our lives making a home, which usually means acquiring the stuff we need and like. It's a kind of emotional padding which we get comfortable with, and which we look forward to seeing and feeling every day. It's all part of our precious family structure and in my case it was doubly precious because my two children and I were a wonderfully close family. It was always us against the world, and when I look around at the chairs and books, the rugs and pictures and all the paraphernalia of family life which accompanied us through that journey, it tugs at my heart to think that much of it will be going. I can only hope that it will go somewhere where it may be appreciated in the same way. Silly me, I know it's only stuff, but it's our stuff, our family.
Of course it's also to do with acknowledging the fact that I'm getting older and I'm not the centre of their world any more. Fine, that's life and it's ok - I'm probably making too much of it, My nest has been empty for a while now, and I need to get on with my new life.
Turning over a new leaf means I will be taking time out, once my new house is done and dusted, and travelling. I'll be heading for some sun, and fun, and first will be joining my lovely BBF in Majorca, where she is renting an apartment in Palma. Actually she phoned me this evening, just when I was feeling rather sorry for myself and overwhelmed by it all. And just talking to her and laughing a bit made everything seem better.
For some reason, it reminded me of a film I saw many years ago, called "A New Leaf" with Walter Matthau and Elaine May. He's looking for a new wife and she is a scatty, plain woman who keeps dropping things and putting her foot in it. She's a social disaster and not at all what everyone expects him to be attracted to, but as he looks at her across the room, and sees all her imperfections, he mutters "She's perfect". It's a great comic moment. Funny the things you remember!
Friday, April 17, 2015
Nobody Panic...
Honestly, I'm beginning to feel a bit like a rabbit frozen in the headlights where this move is concerned. It's just that I have to get my head around not only moving, but getting rid of so much of the 'stuff' that I have gathered around me over the last twenty years or so. Then there's the fact that I will have to completely gut and refurbish the new place, which will take roughly two months, during which time I will have to rent somewhere short term. If all of this sounds stressful, it is supposed to be but I feel strangely calm most of the time - just unable to actually do anything.
I should be planning it all, on the computer probably, and I am getting together a lot of pictures which I'm saving in my "Moving Folder". Typically for me, I can easily visualize what it will look like when it's finished; I can see the kitchen, the sitting room, the bedrooms, the bathrooms and even
the garden as they will be when finished, it's just the getting there which eludes me! I have now seen three builders, all different, and all very helpful in their different ways - they can all apparently do what I want and seem competent enough. But I have heard so many horror stories about builders that I'm naturally cautious and, frankly, terrified of choosing the wrong one. My best option would seem to be the one who is actually working on another house in the same development at the moment. I have been watching their progress over the last couple of weeks and their work looks good. Fingers crossed, they could be the ones...
I don't want to add any pressure to Son's life either, since he has only just emerged from wrestling with his builders, who were basically a "gang" of Polish men who were often drunk on the job, often not even on the job, and finally left their new house in an unfinished and dodgy state. All I want is for him to come down in a van (with a friend) and take some of my stuff away. They already have one of my lovely rugs in their sitting room, and it works well on their new oak floor. I just wish they had room for more. And if only Daughter could take a few things! But that is just wishful thinking as their flat (a large, three-bedroom job) is already stuffed to the gills with their things, and even when they move I don't think they'll want much of mine.
Anyway, I'm just whingeing really. We obviously have lofts and attics for the sole purpose of storing things we will never look at again.. and particularly our children's things. Mine contains children's books (still boxed from my move 12 years ago), black sacks full of old stuffed toys,
a half-size snooker table, a travel cot, a rear shelf from an old Renault 5, suitcases full of summer or winter clothes, bubble-wrapped pictures...well you get the picture, and I swear I won't do it again..
I know I'm going to have to store some things, like the table from my Dad and the elm chest and probably the beautiful C18th corner cupboard, but now I'll have a garage, a dry, solid brick-built garage, in which to store them for a while. Ho Hum...
Oh and just before I go, here's something I heard on the radio this morning: "What is Dark Matter?
It's called Dark Matter because it doesn't give out any light." Basically, it's the dark stuff in between the stars. Isn't that wonderful?
I should be planning it all, on the computer probably, and I am getting together a lot of pictures which I'm saving in my "Moving Folder". Typically for me, I can easily visualize what it will look like when it's finished; I can see the kitchen, the sitting room, the bedrooms, the bathrooms and even
the garden as they will be when finished, it's just the getting there which eludes me! I have now seen three builders, all different, and all very helpful in their different ways - they can all apparently do what I want and seem competent enough. But I have heard so many horror stories about builders that I'm naturally cautious and, frankly, terrified of choosing the wrong one. My best option would seem to be the one who is actually working on another house in the same development at the moment. I have been watching their progress over the last couple of weeks and their work looks good. Fingers crossed, they could be the ones...
I don't want to add any pressure to Son's life either, since he has only just emerged from wrestling with his builders, who were basically a "gang" of Polish men who were often drunk on the job, often not even on the job, and finally left their new house in an unfinished and dodgy state. All I want is for him to come down in a van (with a friend) and take some of my stuff away. They already have one of my lovely rugs in their sitting room, and it works well on their new oak floor. I just wish they had room for more. And if only Daughter could take a few things! But that is just wishful thinking as their flat (a large, three-bedroom job) is already stuffed to the gills with their things, and even when they move I don't think they'll want much of mine.
Anyway, I'm just whingeing really. We obviously have lofts and attics for the sole purpose of storing things we will never look at again.. and particularly our children's things. Mine contains children's books (still boxed from my move 12 years ago), black sacks full of old stuffed toys,
a half-size snooker table, a travel cot, a rear shelf from an old Renault 5, suitcases full of summer or winter clothes, bubble-wrapped pictures...well you get the picture, and I swear I won't do it again..
I know I'm going to have to store some things, like the table from my Dad and the elm chest and probably the beautiful C18th corner cupboard, but now I'll have a garage, a dry, solid brick-built garage, in which to store them for a while. Ho Hum...
Oh and just before I go, here's something I heard on the radio this morning: "What is Dark Matter?
It's called Dark Matter because it doesn't give out any light." Basically, it's the dark stuff in between the stars. Isn't that wonderful?
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