As the Pickfords lorry turned the corner,
my first thought was,
'There's no way our house is going to fit in that'
(whether that is grammatically correct or not,
I don't know, but that was my exact thought).
I'd been up since silly o'clock, thoughts of the
enormity of what we were about to do
having raced through my mind for most of the night.
And now the moment was here - the one where
you pack up your home & memories in a
removal lorry, not knowing when you're going
to see them again.
It rained most of the day - Sod's Law that
it was the only day that week to rain - this did
not enhance the removal crew's mood.
And yes, I was right, the contents of our
4 bed detached did not want to fit into
the lorry. But after several phone calls to
the office & some cursing of Terry, the estimator,
plus more than one attempt at rearranging
everything, by the end of the afternoon,
the lorry set off for the storage depot and we were left watching our 12 month old granddaughter
toddling circuits through the hall, dining room
& lounge, much as our daughter used to
in our previous house when she was that age.
Her giggles are the most precious memory
from that day - there are no photos,
but the picture is
from that day - there are no photos,
but the picture is
etched in my memory forever.
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