When the removalists arrived they seemed quite impressed that all the boxes were stacked in their respective areas with coloured dots signifying their destination. Clearly, they had expected to have to pack and sort. I texted Lester to say that, as always, I had probably over-prepared and done more work than expected. His reply was that I should relax, "go with the flow" (that's great coming from
Mr Idon'tlikechange) , that this was my Dream Day!
From there there were a few negative turns. The curtain place has not started on the curtains (tracks were supposed to be in place last Tuesday.) We cannot exchange the long arm lights because they were especially made for us. It is a pity that they are ridiculously long that they can't be used. I'll buy some others and try to sell them on ebay. The glass on the bathroom is behind schedule and still needs three days for the colour to dry. Greg rang up to say that when trying to find stude to put up the hand rail, he hit a crumbly bit which looked like white ants. As there was no sign of life, I told him to fill the holes with spackfilla and requested that he didn't mention such concerns again with me. I really don't want to know! Then our new wizz-bang vacuum cleaner died.
I was feeling fairly hungry by this stage and despite the setbacks, I remained in buoyant mood - enjoying my "dream day". So, I called upon my local Gofa, Jerry P, to bring some food. We sat up on the balcony and enjoyed a hamburger and VB (really).
Meanwhile, The removalists were fantastic. They were very strong Newzealanders who were good humoured (played chasings with cling wrap and bubble foam as they parcelled up objects, sang lively songs loudly, and Big Kev even played the piano for a while, most effectively, which all created a cheerful atmosphere. They were so efficient and managed to pack EVERYTHING, including old towels that were lying around, into the neatest and tightest jig saws in the back of the trucks. Kev and Grant laughed when they saw the piano because it is really only small and the two of them just lifted it like it was one of the packing boxes.
We took the first truck load to the lock-up in Mayfield and I called on Gofa Jerry again to drive me over there to let them in. They were so terrific that they reorganised the lock-up so that the stuff already there was easier for us to get out when we need it. They were just so obliging.
By 4.00 everything was packed and they drove off. I must admit, I felt a bit sad, which surprised me. A few ghosts of the early days crept up on me and I thought of those who have shared that space with us; Grandma, Em, Trev, Gordo, Dan, Mackay...then I focussed on the dust and grime which brought me quickly back to reality.
I am now over town, ensconced in the Sebel, around the corner from the surgery. We ate at a local bar, The Petite Bar, and as we walked around the streets it seemed a lot livelier than walking around Stocko. There was an article in the SMH today about Stocko which made me shudder. It painted the place as being very bleak, which isn't quite true.
At Number 59, the handrails went on. The wood joined with the stainless stringer looks terrific although the photos aren't much good. The ethanol heater was also installed.
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