Wednesday, 22 February 2012

Another Moving Experience

As I write, un pauvre homme is trudging up and down three flights of stairs with my boxes.  I am finally out of storage.  There are a terrifying number of boxes and I suspect I may have to give a lot more stuff away.  I feel quite guilty not helping homme 1 and homme 2 but they will be getting a substantial wodge of cash in hand shortly.  And a glass of water if I feel kind.

A fair bit of today's proceedings have been conducted in French.  A wobbly and slightly rubbish French, but nonetheless French.  But I'm tired now and am just smiling at them and pointing.  And have escaped to my computer corner upstairs.  I am playing the lady of the house for once.

I have no sentimental feelings about most of my stuff, but as homme 1 put on his little trolley the overmantle mirror that was in my parents' house for at least 50 years I watched it carefully, wishing it a safe journey.  It has arrived intact.  I used to stand perilously close to the gas fire in my nylon nightie looking in that mirror, and used to wonder if I could see a murder happening in it from a long time ago like in Dead of Night.


  1. I adore your blog, and need to see photos of your new abode soon! You *are* so very brave, and daring :) x

  2. I'm really not. Really really not. Although the big things don't scare me, I spend most of my time not understanding what people are saying to me, and that makes me really scared.

  3. Bravery isn't an absence of fear, it's being scared and doing it anyway. Which makes you SuperBrave Jane.

  4. Is that you, SS?

    Interestingly I'm re-reading "Feel the Fear And Do it Anyway"