Fuck me, I am shattered, physically and mentally. I am covered in bruises and everything aches. No, I haven’t taken up wrestling; I’ve been humping boxes and building furniture because I’ve finally MOVED HOUSE.
But, before I get ahead of myself, let me reminisce about what else happened in March.
(If you want to read the other monthly updates because you’re bored or just a nosey bastard, you can find them all here. Quality may vary).
London part one: A Sherlock Holmes themed outdoor escape room
Back in the olden days, when I worked full time for a council, I made some very special friends. Fifteen years later (I counted!) and almost a decade since I left the council altogether, we try to meet up at least a few times a year for a good catch up. We’d booked in a date to get together but as the time approached and there weren’t any shows or events we particularly wanted to go to, we hit upon the idea of an escape room.
Rather than your usual indoor type, we went for Moriarty’s Game, a Sherlock-Homes inspired outdoor escape room/adventure hunt thing run by The Hidden City which takes place in and around Marylebone, London. There’s a lot of walking involved (thank god the weather was great!), solving clues on the go, but there are a few stops along the way and you can even take time out for lunch if you fancy it.
We decided to smash it out in one go as we had dinner booked, and not to say we’re competitive or anything but we finished it in 2hrs 18mins. Then we headed to Mildred’s – a vegan restaurant in Soho – before I came back to see how the dog was getting on (fine. She was fine).
London part two: Richard Herring and lots of Geordies
The following weekend is usually my weekend with the kids, but I’d booked this well in advanced and cleared it so I could meet Zoe, one of my best friends from back home in Sussex to watch Can I Have My Ball Back?, Richard Herring’s latest stand up show. We try to meet up for each of his shows and it’s become something of a tradition now; one that started well over 20 years ago with the show Talking Cock – from cock to balls, it really has been the genital journey.
We met for a bite to eat first at a lovely (and very reasonable) little Mediterranean bistro in Soho; the two course set menu with a bottle of wine to share cost less than a single burger and small glass of wine in the vegan place of the previous week. They were also very speedy, so we were on time for the show. Phew.
This latest show is about Richard’s experience of testicular cancer, which doesn’t sound very funny at all really does it – but it was engaging and humorous and everything we’ve come to expect of him. Well worth seeing it if it’s still about, and if you can’t, you can get the paperback and audio book versions of the story.
After the show we wanted to go for a quiet drink, which is easier said than done in a city playing temporary host to 100,000 Geordies. We met some very interesting people, and then staggered home for the last train.
London part three: Inside Number 9
the last of my trio of trips to the capital was something I’ve been looking forward to for absolutely ages; the Stage/Fright live play written by and starring Steve Pemberton and Reece Shearsmith of Inside Number 9 (and of course, League of Gentlemen). I had spent ages online getting really good tickets for a Saturday night show about a year in advance, so it definitely had a lot of hype to live up to – but it was so much fun. I’m really glad I went. I can’t give too much away because that wouldn’t be fair but if you’re a fan there are some references to past episodes, and a lot of new material too.
I enjoyed myself a lot, the company was excellent, and I bumped into my kids’ reception teacher in the pub afterwards which was lovely. The school my kids attended back in Kent which went into special measures is now rated as outstanding in several areas, which warms the cockles of my heart, even though they’re not there anymore. Maybe it was them holding the school back? Who knows.
I MOVED
For the second time in just under two years (and the third time since December 2021!), I moved house. But this time, I bought a house. On my own.
The week before
It had got to the point where I never thought it was going to happen, and I had to threaten to pull out unless we exchanged imminently. Finally, a date was set for exchange and completion. I contacted my removals company and as luck would have it, they were busy that day. Of course they were. The only other possible day there were resurfacing works on my road; no cars in or out, so that wasn’t ideal either.
In the end the couple living in my new house-to-be, as fed up with the whole bastard thing as I, agreed that I could get the movers to move my things in two days prior to planned completion, as their belongings had already been packed up and put in storage. This is of course highly irregular and not at all recommended but I felt fairly confident they weren’t going to make off with my socks and it was the only way I could see it might actually work.
The day for exchange – planned to be the 17th, with completion on the 27th – came and went. Daily requests for updates were ignored. Something about a mortgage happened. I started to panic that it was all going to collapse, but we had to power on through; what other choice did we have?
Two days until planned completion
The packers came in and spent all day wrapping, packing and moving my belongings into a house on which I hadn’t yet exchanged contracts. It wasn’t until about 3pm, on our third trip I think, that we got an email saying it had actually happened.
The movers did a fourth trip without me – I went to the pub instead. The next day, they returned at 7am because they had yet more to do. I was becoming slightly worried that despite spending the previous month getting strangers from Facebook Marketplace to take all my furniture it wasn’t going to fit!
Wednesday was spent cleaning up the old house, making sure everything that hadn’t been taken was boxed and ready to move and that all the rubbish was ready for a final trip to the tip. I slept on a single Ikea mattress on the floor with almost no stuff, and took sleeping tablets because I knew it was the only way any sleep would happen at all.
Moving in
On Thursday, my boyfriend (who took the day off to help me even though I was adamant I’d be fine, and can I just say how bloody grateful I am that he did) came over so we could have a romantic date to the tip, and on the way home I got an email telling me that the completion had gone through.
We rushed back to the house, loaded up the cars and collected the dog, and went off to collect the key… which obviously wasn’t ready, but gave us time for a sit down and a coffee.
Moving day actually felt very zen compared to the previous two days, and I can confirm it was VERY much so compared to the chaos of the following week.
Since Thursday 27th I have been deep in unboxing hell; when the skip – which was the first thing I ordered when I found out completion had actually gone ahead – finally arrived I almost cried tears of joy.
Honestly, if you love someone, hire them a skip. I actually had dreams about it. Filling it with all the miscellaneous crap from the house and ten metric tonnes of cardboard has been a bloody joy.
Everything is pretty much entirely unpacked now; things are more or less where they’re staying and furniture including beds are built.
A huge thank you to Bed Kingdom for my daughter’s loft bed (review here). My lovely dog walking friend Claire and I put it up together with the dogs helping out by barking at us, eating polystyrene and being general dickheads.
My daughter loves her bed. Thanks Claire (and less thanks to Izzy and Raven).
As a result of the week’s activities my legs are fucking COVERED in bruises and I am absolutely knackered.
But fuck it – I bought a house and I moved in, with help from my friends, but I did it.
My washing machine – also not ordered until I had the keys in my hands, for obvious reasons – arrived with a big fucking hole in the door – thanks Curry’s! The delivery guys weren’t exactly solutions men, so I opted for phoning customer services and asking for a full refund.
Having not washed anything for about two weeks I am down to the Big Pants only and I’ve run out of jeans.
My new machine from AO arrived today (bit of an April spoiler alert there); I’m already three washes in.
Re: Decorating, I truly cannot be arsed with it – the thought of moving furniture again to pain walls fills me with absolute dread – so I’ll probably live with this for about a year I reckon, unless a nice paint company wants to pay me or something, in which case I’ll probably do it.
Oh, and I definitely need more pot plants. You can donate to this fund below.
If you enjoyed this and you’re feeling generous, you can buy me a cup of tea or a glass of wine – or donate to my houseplant addiction fund – here.
You can also see my Amazon wish list here.
I moved house once (it was the last but one before I too said enough and haven’t then moved for over 25 years) and the vendors of the house we were buying had got delaying tactics down to a fine art. The house had been on the market for over 9 months and they were downsizing yet hadn’t got rid of a single thing and then the wife (who worked whilst the husband didn’t) was away for 3 weeks in a management course and apparently he couldn’t do a thing in her absence.
Anyway, we started pressurising for a date as it had gone on long enough. We got one and collected the keys.
Our new neighbours kept in touch with them and a few months later, they told us the story of what had happened. The place they bought was quite rural and picturesque, but there was a problem because their solicitor discovered that if they stepped out of their back door, they would be on someone else’s land. The solicitor told them under no circumstances should they deal directly with their vendor because he had his suspicions with the type of person he was. However, the guy contacted them, was all friendly and told them they could move in on the day even though they’d not exchanged or completed. It’d be fine.
On the day, they moved their stuff in, and the guy even helped them to plumb in their washing machine. And then – quelle surprise – the guy produced the contract and told them they had to sign the contract there and then or he would put the price up £10K – which was quite a lot more.
They had to move all their stuff back out and ended up in nurses accommodation for 3 months until they could buy another house.
Moving stuff in early is very much a calculated risk.