I've been back in my supervisory role this afternoon while Himself has been moving furniture...
My job is easy...consists mostly of shouting ...Mind the dog!...as he treads on Millie's paw and she hobbles into the kitchen to get out of the way or when he clunks Bobby across the head with a drawer from the tatty old sideboard...
That old sideboard was in the bedroom...full of my family history stuff...it needs sorting out, but it's a task I endlessly put off doing. So that sideboard is good for nothing but firewood...in its place will be the very nice indeed chest of drawers which we were given and is in the sitting-room...and that is bursting with sheets and towels while the bottom drawer...the last time I looked anyway...the bottom drawer has the Scrabble set, plus about a thousand photographs...none of which are in any kind of order. Which is why I peek in there about once a year...shudder...and close it again.
That'll leave enough space to put the smaller table up against the wall...the lovely big table...custom made for me years ago by a barefoot Swede who refused to pay the portion of his Council Tax which went to armament...don't know how he worked it out but he did...that'll have to go back into the barn.
He wore his hair in a thick plait that almost reached his waist and was in constant demand from dribbling women all wanting a piece of handmade furniture...the more complicated the item, the longer they could spend in his workshop drooling...I didn't of course...he grew cannabis plants among the sunflowers in his garden...everyone pretended they didn't know what they were.
Where was I...Himself moving furniture...
By the time he'd heaved the old sideboard outside and cleaned up the swathes of dirty grey cobwebs which had been lurking behind it for years, he'd had enough and I can't say I blame him.
Tomorrow is another day...
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As the song says " one day at a time " last year I bought 4 large photo albums and spent a week sorting all the family photos,still have about 70 to sort,it seems never ending. Handmade furniture would weigh a ton,as it was built to last,so no easy task when it comes to moving it.
This leads me to house moving!! Best forgotten by me - it was horrendous with very ill husband and a ailing cat, a year ago (How the time flies) My daughter was a star, and also son. I walked into the bungalow and saw a sea of brown boxes. First task was to see husband to bed. I was given a notebook by daughter to jot any requests down. Son and daughter were amazing. Sone did E/L stuff and daughter unpacked with help and put all the pictures up ++ loads more of this and that. Never agauin x
More furniture moving tomorrow then vashti. Hope Himself has a good rest in the meantime. Take care xxx
Oh don't talk about moving please! I have been in my flat for 19 years. In the first 10 years my mother moved at least 6 times and one of my sisters the same. They were both a nightmare in their different ways - my mum didn't trust any of us and insisted on taking charge which made her exhausted and tetchy.
My sister did very little until moving day and got the rest of us running round frantically! After the last times I told them both they were staying put or else Fortunately they did - phew... x
We have been having a big declutter session and got rid of a lot of junk. Today, his Lordship is having an outside tap installed. He wanted the cupboard under the sink cleared. WOW, now I know where things have been disappearing to. My best vases for a start, including a blown glass one from Czechoslovakia my Mum bought at the Ideal Home Exhibition in 1960.
There are enough cleaning products to set up a stall at a boot sale. Polish, brushes, dusters, dishcloths, sponge cleaning things (new) Shoe polish, beeswax and Vanish, Stergene and Brillo pads. All cleverly concealed by plastic bags and other paraphenelia. (sp?) I have always told him he is a cupboard stuffer, but this really takes the biscuit.
The airing cupboard is another place where one can find all manner of lost things. As for his man cave under the stairs, the less said the better.
I took my Jack Russell, George for his pedicure and manicure at the vet this morning. The nurse said he gave one growl then resigned himself to his fate. One nurse held him between her knees while the other nurse clipped his claws. They get long so quickly despite daily walks. He has hare paws which don't help and very big feet.
At least your best vases were still in the house...Himself put all mine in the barn!
George was a good boy then...Eilis goes for a daily walk along the road but her nails still grow a lot...don't think she actually puts her feet on the ground...lol
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Fortunately they did - phew... x
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