The Big Move

Hello! It’s been a while since I posted anything (and I cannot apologise enough for that) but I have been in moving hell for the last week so I do have an excuse. Trust me, it’s not been fun. But no-matter – I’m here now. (See pic above). Yep I have made it to the beautiful St Andrews where I will be studying Creative Writing as an MLitt. It’s all very exciting (now that I’ve got over the initial ‘ahh I don’t know anyone/ I have to live in halls again/ I don’t know where anything is’ panic.) I’m still left with the occasional twinge of ‘what if I’m not good enough/ can’t keep up/ fail my masters’ but I’m getting pretty good at suppressing that now.

So why did it take me a whole week to move you ask? Well, I’ll tell you, but I feel I should warn you: it was a long, gruelling process so will no doubt be an equally long, gruelling story. Unless I manage to cut out all the long gruelling bits but to be honest I don’t think you’d be left with much.

Saturday

We hired a van, packed it full to the brim and discovered we were not going to get everything in. So, we drove to Watford (journey time approx 2 hours) to pick up the keys for my boyfriend’s flat, (let’s call him J)  then straight on to Manchester (journey time approx 3 hours). We arrived there at about 10pm, unloaded the essentials (TV, computer, xbox – my boy’s a gamer) and called it a night.

Sunday

The next morning we unloaded the rest (I’d like to point out at this point that J’s flat was on the third floor – lots of carrying heavy things up lots of stairs. It wasn’t fun.)  and drove back to Norwich for more stuff (journey time approx 4.5 hours).  Then, with the van filled again, we drove back to Watford (2 hours, remember?) to drop off all the stuff we were leaving with our parents. We finished doing that at about 11pm so stayed the night.

Monday

The next morning we had to leave at 7.30am to ensure we returned the van to Norwich in time (another 2 hours). We then spent the day binning the rubbish and haphazardly packing whatever was left and trying to clean the house in time for our inspection at 4pm. By 2pm, I realised, it was not looking good. J, however, would not admit defeat so we ploughed on for about another hour. At 3.15pm, however, the truth was inescapable. We were not going to be done in time. I rang up the estate agents every minute until someone (eventually) answered and managed to rearrange the inspection for the following morning. This was my lowest point. The thought that it would all be over by 4pm had been the only thing keeping me going. Now I had nothing to clean for. So it was left to J to motivate us and I have to say, he stepped up to the task much better than I would have thought. I think he was spurred on by the thought of going to the pub with his mate. I was too low to even look forward to a good old pint of moonshine at this point – also, I had a headache and drinking on a headache is always a bad idea. (Moonshine is a traditional cider brewed by the Fat Cat – a brewery and pub in Norwich.) But I pulled through and by 9pm had done enough to feel comfortable that I could finish in the morning. So we went to the pub.

Tuesday

The next morning was, as you can probably imagine, a last-minute-cleaning-chaos. In fact, I was still mopping the kitchen and bathroom floor when the guy arrived (15 minutes early!) He didn’t seem to mind, though. To be honest, he didn’t even have that close a look – just sort of marched into each room barking out inventory items and saying ‘yeah, it’s all there, everything looks fine.’ The only room that didn’t get this seal of approval was our bedroom: there was a stain on the carpet where I had at one point spilt a carton of sangria and not noticed at the time (it was buried, OK? – I’m not the tidiest of people). He even failed to notice the missing shower head (it fell off and wouldn’t stay on when we super-glued it) and the obviously-broken-and-botch-glued handles. That was a tense moment, let me tell you. My breath caught every time he opened a cupboard. I was sure the handle was going to come off in his hand. Didn’t though, so that was all gravy. All in all, seemed like a lot of effort for nothing. Then we had to reload the car and drive back to Watford twice because it wouldn’t all fit in one load (2×3=6 hours).

Wednesday

We awoke in Watford having left Norwich forever and spent the day sorting out all the crap we’d dumped at our parents’ homes. There was a worrying moment when we weren’t sure if all the stuff we needed to take to Manchester/ St Andrews would fit in the car, which resulted in me leaving a fair amount behind (spare towel, any kind of duvet cover…) but we got there in the end and drove up to Manchester (3 hours ish).

Thursday – Friday

J breathed a huge sigh of relief at not having to drive anywhere for a couple of days. We explored Mancs with a friend already living there. It was nice.

Saturday

J drove me up to St Andrews (journey time approx 5 hours)

So that’s it – that’s my excuse. Before that it was all packing and leaving dos and there was my 25th birthday mixed in somewhere too so yeah. Ta-da!

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