Wednesday, August 18, 2004

summer

I'm sitting writing this in the studio of my parents house in London, where it is - sad to say given that this is my summer holiday - not sunny at all (something which Pete probably minds as much as I do, seeing as his blog suggests that his visit home will consist of nothing much more than reading in the garden. Pack a jumper, Pete.)

The house move on Saturday passed off with a lot of effort and aching, primarily down to the contribution of Pete and Andrew who helped us all the way - several van moves and a trip to the tip. For some reason I found the whole moving experience more tiresome and tiring than usual, perhaps because of the sheer volume of stuff we have accumulated, but probably also because we seem to move so often that the normal rewards of moving (sense of peace, sense of calm, sense of purpose and - most importantly - sense of permanence) no longer seem quite so reliable. So we listen out for noise, eccentric pianists, ravers, shouting loons and passing louts. None come out of the woodwork, so far, although Vic is on edge.

We somehow squeeze into the schedule a back-breaking 3 hour cleaning of our old flat on Monday night which near kills us - well, near kills Vic, who is brained by our shower, which has a dodgy attachment and has threatened to wallop one of us for months without doing so. On our final hurrah, and with crushing inevitability, it does, falling from its perch onto the top of V's forehead as she cleans the bath - so we have to delay proceedings while we look for signs of concussion. Date of birth, please? What's our new phone number? Who's the prime minister? Who's winning the war on terror?...

That done, we return our keys to the estate agent, who tells us that new tenants are moving straight in although we are still under contract 'til Friday (but have moved out). Is this ethical? No, of course not! Do we make a stand? I thank him for his help over the last year (as Vic says, he is no better than he should be) and leave. Ah well.

Fitting everything into the new flat, meanwhile, looks near impossible. We toil, however, and after much re-ordering and a couple of excellent temper tantrums on my part, we are finished. *opens beer, sits back*.

So now, in lieu of a holiday abroad but taking note of the fact that we have two weeks off, I end up in North London for my summer break, in the home I've lived in since I was born (Vic expresses undiminishing astonishment at this, still) thinking, how did things come to pass that I am spending my summer migrating from the sea to the suburbs??? It used to be the other way round, didn't it?

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

Hello Jonathan, Hello Victoria - Dan here! *Waving at his monitor*

Glad to hear the move went as well as can be expected except perhaps for the shower taking a final swipe at Vic - has she come round yet? Just wanted to say how jealous I am of your weeks of lesuire in the big smoke. There is no sun here either so no need for pangs of jealousy ok? Oh no as i type beautiful rays of sunshine are emerging from behind the grey clouds! Wow this is something else, oh and now as if by magic the beautiful people of Brighton are now lesuirely strolling around, to nowhere in particular. Do they ever go to work!?!

Ok well enjoy your fortnight... See you guys in Sep no doubt.

jonathan said...

Hi Dan,

The sun's out here now, thankfully, although it tends to dart behind a cloud everytime I try to sit in it. We've just had a barbecue and are a bit drunk, and I'm still getting over the fact that I kept worrying that - unlikely I know - my mum and dad's cat would jump on the BBQ when I wasn't looking. Thankfully no such events occurred.

Yes, let's go for a beer soon.