Kates Journal

So, I got my valuation back today, and I’m happy to say that they are happy with the house valuation and the price I’ve offered. I’ve also got my solicitor’s letter too. So, that’s all going to wing it’s way off this afternoon.

But the surveyor’s report revealed something astounding:

Well, what am I paying for?!

;)

Anyway, I’ve managed to transfer some cash, and so the whole loss of the internet (which has suprisingly not happened yet) is slightly less of a disaster. Clothes are packed, I’ve also packed sheets and I’ll be taking my duvet. I’ve packed towels, and I’m now packing up the bathroom…

Scary, scary stuff.

Linky to picture.

Yeah, on a more serious note I hate packing. With avengence. Part of the problem is I’m down to bitty bits, and I have been for a while. They are both hard to pack and hard to get the enthusiasm to pack. I just find myself wanting to say ‘oh for fuck’s sake’ a lot. It’s also the whole trying to work out what I’ll need, when I’ll need it, and so on.

Do I need this stuff in the next few weeks? Will I need this stuff in a month? Do I need this stuff when I go to Canada? If I get the house and move in will I need this straight away?

What clothes do I need? What shoes? Do I need my good coat? Do I need my bike gear out? ARGH! It’s making my mind melt. The back room is all clear. The kitchen needs packing still, the lounge is nearly clear. I did a run to the tip (Cheers Nikki) today – but forgot to take the old PC case (which I hoped would disappear by the old ‘please take me’ sticker and standing it outside, but it didn’t. I think it’ll land in the bin…).
I just would like the new job to start (it’s insane though, that it starts in 4 days time!), and the new house to be sorted (and things to go smoothly, they’ve not exactly *started* smoothly, the solicitors didn’t get my contact details, fortunately they decided to proceed and hope I’d ring them, or get the letter they sent and *then* ring them – but i just rang them today… and so that’s sorted).

I want people to ring me and say “it all looks good, we should have you moved in on Tuesday”. That’d be nice :-)

Feh.

Tomorrow my internet goes away. The nasty man will come and take away my internet connection… *whimper*. And actually, I shall have no phone either, apart from the mobile. God, it’s weird. My whole life – most of my connections at any rate – exist because of my online life. It’s weird to completely lose that. I’ve still got my little 33k6 modem for the laptop at least, but that’s the entirety of my connectivity for the next month. I actually find that scarier than moving.

I am *so* addicted to the net. And now I have to go cold turkey…

I’ve actually had a really positive day. I posted off my prescription so that it should be ready for collection before I head off, I’ve sorted out my tools – my toolbox is so neat I nearly took a photo to share with you all – yes, I really was that amazed. I’ve thrown out, or at least piled stuff to go to the tip tomorrow, I’ve sorted out which tools I’m going to take with me (and considered that I’m going for 3 weeks, and shouldn’t *really* need any tools, but if I take them and don’t need them I’ll feel slightly silly. If I don’t take them and do need them I’ll feel like 10 different sorts of idiot).

And it’s with very mild sadness that I write that Claire passed away today. Claire was never really a faithful bike, at least, not to me. Although standing proud at 120,000 miles, no mean feat for a small engine’d MZ; she resented those last 20,000 with a force that nearly caused the death of us both several times. Claire will always be remembered with a certain fondness, her desire to slide down the road on her side however, will not be sadly missed, and her disintegrating frame shall remain forever in my heart as something to avoid allowing to happen again. Her funeral is tomorrow.

Yes… I started the day with Claire looking like this:

And managed to transfer the forks (no mean feat) and the electrics over to Charlie. Charlie now looks like a bike, not least because with the addition of 2 wheels (making her no longer a very heavy unicycle) and an engine, I could slap the petrol tank on (although that turned out to be a complete dog of a job). She looks a lot more finished than she really is – although the electrics are transferred I had to disconnect much in the name of untangling and so on; and although I’ve thrown them on to Charlie, many of the joints need replacing, and the whole thing needs working out, because the two bikes were very different electrics wise, and I’ve only got the front half of Charlie’s electrics. If anyone fancies supplying me with a diagram which correctly combines post-1994 MZ wiring and pre-1994 wiring, then I’d be greatful. Hell, you can come for a ride on Charlie…

The day was also made brighter by having lunch with Liz up at my favourite lunch place in Brizzy, The Revival cafe, where we munched and chatted before heading to ShakeAway to consume phenominally unhealthy drinks – which were delicious :-)

I also, because I’m lousy at not spending money got a guitar chord reference from a booksale that’s closing down, some photo paper (again from the same booksale, ‘cos it was super-cheap for photo paper), I’ve e-mailed Rana-X one last time about the photos we agreed on, hopefully this e-mail will get through; and I also, because I’m a very bad person bought LDN on vinyl, and the new Evanesence single, also on Vinyl.

I am bad.

But I have Pirate Charlie, in PINK! RAAR!

The offer was accepted on the house.

Watch me try not to count chickens.

Those of you who’ve moved houses a few times and had more than one or two relationships may be able to empathise more with this than those who haven’t, or maybe it’s just me. But there comes a time, in packing a house, in packing a life away, when suddenly you find yourself packing away things that bring back floods of memories. These tend to be ‘ornaments’ for me, although books, CDs, clothes can all do it; it tends to be the little gifts I’ve got or been given over the years.

Letters too. I think that’s why friday was quite hard – I was packing away my letters and photos; and there was a card from my dad… his untidy handwriting creeping it’s way across the card, and making me laugh and cry at the same time. His and my sense of humour were so close, that that one card, written from the top of a mountain, just carried me back. Even thinking about it now, it takes me to moments of time.

And today I packed up my (very dusty) windowsill. These are the ornaments that will remain packed until I have a place of my own, in a box with photos and paintings, they will lie. And they bring back those memories of people and places. I think that it’s the hardest thing about moving – making me work through the ends of relationships, the passing of friendships, the postcards lovingly written and pinned or propped in place.

Virtually all I own is packed away. My life has disappeared into little boxes. And I find it hard to remember that I exist, sometimes, when there’s so little evidence of it. I think I’m just in a very odd mood tonight. The combination of such gregarious people and the sudden loneliness of an empty house, a house where nearly all entertainments have disappeared has left me feeling decidedly alone.