Last Friday we moved house. It all crept up rather quickly - Gill had made most of the arrangements, packed things up while I was in London - and come Thurdsday I was starting to worry. The sale all seemed to be set up at the last minute - would the mortgage go through? Would all the legal aspects be in place on time? What things would we forget to pack?
On Thursday night I had a nightmare - the first that I remember having in a long time. We were rushing to pack things away at the last minute. I had just remembered the outhouses/cellars that we had neglected. There were two entrances, one at either end of a series of messy dark rooms. Opening the “out” door, I saw the most horrendous apparition, a wraith-like mummy of dark grey rags and bones. I dashed past it and worked my way through the labyrinth to “in”. At each stage was a different undead creature, each slightly weaker and less frightening than the last. They chased me and almost caught me on a number of occasions, but each guardian was unwilling to follow me far beyond the borders of its territory. I finally past the lowliest zombie and broke free through the second door.
But I still had to collect the various items scattered through these rooms. It was a tough task, because all of the rooms contained more junk and blown-in leaves than useful items, and the more belongings I collected the more weighed down I became, and I had to make a number of return visits, monsters re-grouping and fortifying their domains between times.
I could not pass the creatures and leave my back unguarded, so I had to slay each one in turn to progress my journey. They died protesting, and I found that the only way to keep them down was by removing their heads with a saw (which I usefully found hanging in an early cellar). Their hands clutched for my neck as I sawed frantically at theirs. The rough-cutting of flesh disgusted me, but it was the only way in which I could save my life. The early zombies were easier, although still not easy, to deal with. But as I went deeper into the complex, and spent more time searching in the deepening darkness, the more unequal our struggles became. I took a quick peek through the out door at that chilling spirit, and wondered how I would ever pass it or even its inferior antecedents.
And then I woke up. Phew!
And we still had to move house. And Gill had a funeral to go to. And a job interview. And I had a letter to deliver to the solicitors, and some keys to pick up. And the removal men were coming at 8am. And…
Most of that worked out OK. The removal men soon realised that 1 van and 2 men wouldn’t suffice, so they sent for reinforcements to double their numbers. The Halifax were engaged for 3 hours, so I couldn’t find out whether they could give me the keys. In the end I jumped into the car to fetch them, took Lolly with me and left Rowan & Beth in the care of the removal men and our house’s new owner. As it was a sunny hot day, I was dressed in a T-shirt and Lolly in a vest. But soon after we started out, the rain came down. And then the hail. And then the sheets of water, thunder & lightning. We guessed our way to a car park which seemed like it ought to be close to Sheffield Cathedral. Luckily, it was. But it was still bucketing it down. I found my jacket in the boot, wrapped Lolly in it and stared out at the waterfall outside. When it seemed to die down a bit, we ran… but still got drenched. Turned up bedraggled in the Halifax ready to have a fit if I didn’t get the keys, but they sorted it out pretty quickly so I headed for Walkley and our house for the rest of our lives(!)
Took me 5 minutes of fumbling to get the assorted keys to work on the door’s 3 keyholes. But then I was in, wandering slowly around the empty house, taking in its splendour. Suddenly everything was OK. It had all worked. Here we were - the rest was pre-ordained. And the house was so… right. It was like moving into your parents or grandparents house - everything working, everthing of a certain quality and solidity. I was happy that we wouldn’t have to attempt continual improvements to make this into a “proper” home. We could just settle in and enjoy things as they were. And we did, though the unloading and (ongoing) unpacking were fairly painful. But we’re happy to have a wonderful new house. And Rowan likes it, because, as she said, it is “like a queen’s house” and “has chandeliers”. And it’s so secluded, despite being in a busy part of Sheffield - you can wonder around the entire house naked without being spotted from outside, which is a bonus as I can never find where Gill hides the dressing gowns.
More house stuff as soon as I get my photos sorted out…
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