Moving diary! Minus 6 days, shit gets done son

Yesterday we had contracts signed and legally witnessed and posted, went to the supermarket, had a viewing at the Bath flat, took Ada for a walk, paid the deposit on our new place and got a crapload of boxes and tape delivered, all while keeping the child alive for another 24 hours. Chris also did some freelance work. It made me realise that I’ve been a feckless layabout on every other day of my life.


Moving always makes me think about the last time I did things and didn’t know it. This is an excellent way to turn your brain inside out.

What was the last mag page I worked on?

What was the last meeting I went to with my work pals?

When did I last sleep in our room alone?

What did I do on my last day as a childless person?

When was the last time I went on a bus without exclaiming ‘OOH BUMPY WHEE!’ out loud?

When will I put her down and not ever pick her up again?

Etc. I can’t recommend going down this mental labyrinth.

Ada has three new teeth, and the only thing that distracts her sometimes is Something Special or Old Jack’s Boat on CBeebies. Which means my bad Scottish rapping now segues painfully into a Bernard Cribbins impersonation when I lose concentration. SORRY GUYS, I’M MARRIED.

Oh, we got the mail redirected and had to include Ada’s name on the list. She gets the best mail; last week she got a toy rabbit in an envelope.

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1 Response to Moving diary! Minus 6 days, shit gets done son

  1. juliekirk says:

    I can see what you’re doing – casually slipping in the title for the kids’ programme you’re writing. When should the under 5s expect to see “‘OOH BUMPY WHEE!’?

    I have never thought there there was a last time my parents picked me up – but there must have been. Although my Mam does squeeze me so hard sometimes I fear she may lift me … and at 5ft with an arthritic neck it’s not the safest move for her to be making.

    Best of luck with the move.

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