Moving times

Normal service will, I hope, be resumed later this week, but the lack of posts recently is down to the fact I have spent the last few days moving house. According to one study, moving house is up there with divorce, losing your job or the death of a family member on the stress-o-meter. I think I’ve got away with it lightly then, as I’ve had a fairly pleasant time of it all. It only took 4 and a bit car loads, and the most arduous task was reorganising my bookcases. The ‘and a bit’ car load occurred on Friday night when I boxed up my two cats and moved them. I had to sneak in the back door with their boxes, and I managed to creep up on Will while he slept. No bother. But Billie saw all this occurring, realised it was her turn next and shot off like a greyhound (a fat, not very sprightly greyhound admittedly) and took a deal of catching. Once safely boxed and in the back of my car, the wailing and whining from the pair of them was pitiful. Anyone watching me pass would have assumed I was mad as I kept up a constant refrain of “Shush babies, it won’t be long now.” “Quite now Billie.” “Will, Will, nearly there.” It had no effect of course and the pathetic noises continued until they were unboxed in their new living room. I honestly think they speak a different language.

Looking back the most stressful part of the whole exercise was on Saturday afternoon, when I had to visit Asda to purchase goods in order to fill my bare kitchen cupboards. I’m not a fan of supermarkets at the best of times, and there must have been a million people in Slough’s Asda on Saturday. More in fact. A medieval knight would have been at home in the aisles, jousting with a trolley rather than a lance. People are so rude. It isn’t as if there was a sale on and there was a danger of them running out of beans or bog roll. The chaos was most unnecessary.

I think I have a plan for next time though. For the less able shopper, Asda kindly provide electric wheelchairs with a trolley handily attached to the front. I couldn’t help but notice that everyone (except me of course) got out of the way on these vehicles, politely standing aside. The touch of arthritis I have in my right ankle probably doesn’t yet merit an electrified wheelchair, but as a means of dropping my shopping related stress down to zero I cannot fault it.