Monday, August 14, 2006


So I went and helped my brother and his girlfriend move over the weekend. It went about as expected:

A convoy of cars got lost on the way there and ended up in Nunhead;
Much broken crockery;
The new bathroom being exposed to the elements;
The old landlord trying to show someone round in the middle of us moving out;
A sofa getting stuck in the stairs for an hour, trapping some of the new neighbours on the street, and some at the top of the stairs;
A few tears, a couple of cuts, a sprain and a screaming match;
My Brother and his Girlfriend playing "Paul and Heather McCartney" while the rest of us looked on in exhausted... um ... exhaustion;
A wrestling match with a gang of traffic wardens as we attempted to unload a van in a bus stop;
Pouring rain at the moment all their worldly goods were piled on the pavement;
14 visits to the hardware shop;
Great amusement at the eccentricity of the wiring of the new flat;
The cat going missing;
"Hilarious" key mixups with the wrong keys being at each flat and a handbag being locked in the rental van who's keys had vanished;
The old landlord getting us to show someone else round just as we're trying to get the last bits into the flat, then asking us whether they seemed okay as they wanted to move in on Monday, before any money could change hands.

And then, having moved in, we ate at Nando's (apologies for the plug, but it was exactly right as post moving food), then went back to the flat, which is really quite nice, and got quite pissed. A good time was had by all. If anyone is short of anything to do for a weekend, I heartily recommend helping someone move.

Please note that my recollection may not exactly match those of the other witnesses.
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