Moving experience
So, whose bright idea was it to set up a theatre company, train as a teacher, move house and plan a wedding at the same time, huh?
I realised today how much I'm going to miss the village; we've really carved out a life for ourselves here. (Oooh, correct use of a colon - if any of my Yr 8s are reading this, I hope they appreciate it...) We know the waitress in our local Chinese, the staff in the Threshers, er, the staff in Oddbins, the staff in Nicolas - OK, maybe our life revolves around the various restaurants, bars and off-licences, but at least it's ours, right?
Seriously, though, we've been so happy in the flat and I can hardly believe it's almost time for us to go; I lay in bed this morning, having quiet morning time, thinking that we'd spent the previous eighteen months here and it was almost incredible that in a few days we'd be living somewhere else. Of course, part of that may be because drmal is on nights, so I've done no packing yet, so there is no sign that we're moving out... All I can say that is if whoever lives here next is half as happy as we have been, then they will be very happy indeed.
However, I popped into the house this afternoon and really wanted to stay there, which I take to be a good sign. However, we have no broadband, no cable, no phone, so in the absence of drmal how was I meant to entertain myself?
Suffered the hell that is Ikea yesterday. The bed we want wasn't available at Thurrock, but was in stock at Croydon - hell, I thought, Croydon? About half an hour round the 25, no problem. However, this 25 minutes turned into two hours.
Then when I eventually made my way to the bed department, and explained I wanted to purchase a bed for home delivery, I was told I would have to go down to the warehouse, collect the bed, pay for it and then take to the home delivery counter.
'Oh,' quoth I. 'Look, I'm on my own, and, with the best will in the world, won't be able to lift a metal bed frame and double mattress onto a trolley. Will there be someone down there to give me a hand?'
Cue sneer from assistant. 'Possibly. We are a self-service store, you know.'
Wanted to point out that self-service was only an option if you could actually physically lift products onto the trolley, and that to prevent someone purchasing a product on the grounds that they didn't have the strength to lift said products onto the trolley might well count as discrimination, but didn't think it would go down too well.
Got myself down to the warehouse, and tried manfully to haul the metal bed frame onto the trolley until I felt something go in my back. So went searching for someone in a blue and yellow polo shirt to help me. The conversation went like this:
B: Hi. I wonder if you can help me?
Ikea Shop Assistant: What?
B: I'm trying to buy a bed, but I can't lift the frame and mattress onto the trolley. Any chance you could give me a hand?
ISA: No.
B: I'm sorry?
ISA: You'll have to find someone else.
Eventually found someone more helpful instead and got bed to the checkout. Then had to queue for the home delivery service. Was charged £65 for the privilege of getting the bed delivered anytime between 8 and 6 the next day - a shining advertisement for Swedish furniture...
However, on the bright side, the show is transferring to the Wimbledon Studio, I'm moving to a beautiful house with the man I love, the teaching is going well and my wedding is booked for the 23rd December 2006.
Asked Ms W's daughter if she would read at our wedding, as I'd always intended that Ms W would read for us. Got really choked; think it's a combination of really realising the Ms W won't be there and that it's only just over a year before our wedding. Delighted to say that Ms W's daughter said yes. If this is how I get just asking someone to read, I'm going to be a sodden mess on the day.
Christmas has sunk to a new low. Am expected to believe a Santa Sings album is really what the kiddy winks want this Christmas? Even with tracks like 'Is This The Way To Santa's Grotto' to the tune of Amarillo?