You are currently browsing the monthly archive for September, 2008.
Our big fundraiser is next weekend. You remember – the one that we cancelled, reinvented and then rescheduled for October 4th? That one.
We’ve had two weeks of fine weather … blue skies, sunshine, balmy breezes. It was great for house-moving purposes. Perfect, in fact. Thank you, Universe. For which relief much thanks. Etc, etc, etc …
As October 4th approaches, I’ll give you three guesses what the forecast is.
No prizes.
Typical isn’t it? You don’t hear from me in yonks and yonks, and then three posts come along in less than 24 hours.
Just an update really … the rucksack will shortly be winging its way to Millom Police Station, who are sending someone to collect it.
Shame. I was getting quite fond of the boxer shorts.
Oh … and if you have nothing more interesting to do and haven’t checked out my ‘Second Life’ recently (no, not that weird cybernetic other world … I have enough trouble coping with the real one, thank you … THIS ‘Second Life’ – Vulpes Libris – you might find it mildly diverting to toddle over there sometime. I’ve been having fun with thespians. That’s THESPIANS, you moron …
The complete roll-call of my handiwork on Vulpes can be found here … but it comes with a mental health warning. Beware the review of ‘Banquet of Lies’. It’s wonderful, but it’s not for the easily shocked. Don’t blame me. I didn’t write it. (I just encouraged him … 
)
I wouldn’t go so far as to say that we’ve moved house. All I’m prepared to concede at the moment is that we, our furniture and MOST of our worldly possessions now occupy the same house.
We had the classic “We can’t get this wardrobe up those stairs” moment – followed by a pantomimic “Yes you can … No we can’t” routine. Eventually, when we weren’t looking, they tried, and – whaddya know … yes they could.
I now have a short walk to work, instead of a 20 minute drive, which will save me a fortune in petrol. It’s also ludicrously idyllic (this is almost literally outside the back door – to get to the Centre, go down the cart track and turn right at the bottom, along the tree line …):
and this is approaching the Centre:
This morning, however, I think I nearly caused a nasty accident.
Imagine if you will, the appartion of me, clad entirely in black, including a long-length black overcoat, carrying a backpack and striding down the cart track. Imagine also, if you will, a farm worker on a quad bike coming through the gate behind me and not crediting the evidence of his eyes. In fact, he was so hypnotized by what he saw that I swear I saw the quad bike lurch as he hit a hummock and nearly turned it over …
Get used to it, kid. I dress a lot more weirdly than that from time to time …
Which brings me back to the mystery object of yesterday.
Actually, it’s a rucksack – a fully (and neatly) packed one. Richard-the-Gardener found it at the bottom of our drive, tucked in the shrubbery. Our best guess is that it fell off a roof rack and that some poor sod got to his destination last night and found himself minus his clean boxers.
If that poor sod was you … or you know who it was … get in touch. We’ll need a reasonably accurate description of the contents and attachments before we hand it over, of course. Just saying “It’s mine, hand it over, and by the way does it have any money or valuables in it?” won’t do.
We’ve found something – a large something belonging to man – half-hidden at the bottom of our drive.
If you can describe it to me reasonably accurately … you can have it!
You need the constitution of an ox to move house. Really. You do.
It would help, of course, if I didn’t have quite so many books. If I didn’t have so many books, I wouldn’t have to shove them into boxes and then try to move the end product.
If I was feeling really mean I could fill the biggest box I can find with books then stand back and watch some poor sod of a removal man try to lift it. We did that once, accidentally. We packed an entire set of the Encyclopaedia Britannica into one box. It wasn’t a pretty sight. I didn’t know human beings could go that colour and live.
The Matriarch and I worked out that we’ve moved house about 28 times or so in our lives.
Why do you think we’ve DONE that to ourselves?
I tried to apply for a postal redirection on the Royal Mail website today, in between moving insanely heavy boxes. I thought it would make a nice change.
The system let me get all the way through to the end, then rejected my credit card. I tried again and it rejected it again. I tried another card. Ditto. We tried Mum’s credit card … same result. Finally, it told me to go away and stop bothering it because I plainly wasn’t who I was claiming to be and the Anti-Terrorist Squad knew where I lived.
I took myself through to the nearest branch of the Post Office and whined at them. They smiled at me amiably and informed me that I was the third person to come in and say the same thing, and wasn’t that interesting? Even as they were saying it, the little old lady at the counter beside me was having her credit card rejected …
My ISP wouldn’t let me transfer my broadband via their website, either. They told me to contact their customer services department. Three days later, I finally got confirmation that if I’m really, really lucky, I’ll have broadband at the new house by the 30th.
I hate credit cards, computers, ISPs and moving house (oh, and sheep ticks while I’m at it … I really loathe sheep ticks) – but not necessarily in that order.
I’m moving house on September the 19th. This will probably mean that you won’t be hearing from me for a while. On the other hand, I may decide that I need to escape from cardboard boxes, bubblewrap and big burly blokes carrying an armchair in each hand and saying “Where do you want these, lass?”
Who knows?
Right – that got your attention nicely.
I thought that The Faithful had earned the right to be the first to see the photographs we’ve chosen for our 2009 calendar …
You may now all clap your hands and go “Ooooh!”.
Thank you.
(Thank you, too, Dave Buxton – Photographer Extraordinaire – whose work they are.)
