Never again! I may have had two summer holidays this year but rest and recreation haven’t been on the agenda.
My first spell away from work was spent packing up our belongings and frantically looking for a new place to live while the second saw us move into our new abode and then attempt to work away through the mountain of boxes that accompanied us.
I suppose I should shoulder some of the blame for the chaos we found ourselves in
I suppose I should shoulder some of the blame for the chaos we found ourselves in. I had promised that, after a series of DIY flits, this time we would get the experts in.
That had been my intention but, as moving day neared and with no sign of a suitable property on the horizon, we resigned ourselves to a period in rented accomnodation and started looking for places to store our belongings.
Of course, no sooner had we taken on a storage unit and made full use of my mum’s attic, than we found just what we’d been looking for - and, by some miracle, we were able tie up the dates to negate the need for a stop-gap home.
Spying the opportunity to save some cash, I argued, quite reasonably I thought, that, having done most of the work already, there wasn’t really a need to get the removal men in.
With the storage unit bursting at the seams, my mum’s generosity having extended to offering up space in her garage, two hired vans packed to the rafters, and both our cars filled to the brim, we still had a pile of boxes and assorted possession scattered around the house.
Eventually, with time running out we were forced to hire another van and my brainwave didn’t seem quite so clever...