“Where’s my blog post ?” screams D. Southworth.
“I think I know the answer !” says Lorenzo.
“Are you still alive ?” asks Mrs RM, who measures my pulse by my blog output.
I’ve been helping James move, and I’m knackered. Mrs RM is STILL putting cupboards up, at 9.03 pm.
Here’s the travel map;
Note how close the Blind Monkey (where we live) is to the Blake Hotel, where James has just moved.
Imagine moving next door to the Blake and it being shut !
As I said yesterday, it’s taken James 7 months to move, and for half an hour this morning it looked like the move was going to end in disaster as BT (yes, them) told him that contrary to what they’d agreed several time that week, he wouldn’t have internet as the installer couldn’t enter a house for more than 15 minutes due to Covid.
When you’re 21 and working in IT from home, not having internet is worse than not having a roof.
Luckily the installation guy had other ideas and reassured James by the time we’d driven the hire van to Big Yellow, where his worldly contents have lived for 3 months.
The LARGE bacon butty/bap/cob from Lily’s cheered him even more.
Note the skilful way one of his housemates converts bap into Beer Guide (top).
By 10am he had the keys; by 4pm we’d done five journeys and I’d returned the van to the efficient people at Enterprise.
The walk back past the Wednesday ground was a joy.
I’d managed over 1,000 calories.
Surely I deserved a pint ?
Sadly, no, but Mrs RM did.
Oh, that title ?