Lurgied and Narked

When we first moved many years ago to the Cullybackey house we were all sick. I remember being glad that we hadn't laid carpets as everyone was throwing up all over the place.Now I'm sick. Not stomach sick, as I can still eat, but flu-ish, lurgie-ish sick. My throat itches and my kidneys hurt. I think I must be allergic to new houses. Hannah and I went out for a walk and I was exhausted before I'd gone two miles. Then we went to Cullybackey Spar, which used to be the Best Spar In The World but has recently changed hands and has already gone downhill. There were not enough experienced people on the tills, which was irritating. On a scale of 0-10 my patience levels were at 1.5 while my narkedness levels were 8.5 and rising.Then on the Dreen Road two bastard lorries were blocking the road while one loaded crap on to another one. At 6:05pm! Cullybackey rush hour for fecks sake you morons. They both had banks of hazard lights going. I don't know why. Maybe it makes them feel important. Maybe it's to discourage enraged menopausal women from trying to lep over them Evel Knievel style. Actually I don't think the Fiesta would be up to that. But three cheers for me I managed not to be horrible to my darling Hannah and sweet Saint Bertram. Because they are stars. Hannah is being extremely helpful with all the work the move involves and Bert is doing all the things I ask him to. Today he sorted the cistern on the downstairs toilet and cut back the hedge at the bottom of the lane. It was OK for him sailing out on to the road in his new (to him) Mercedes Sprinter but I was taking my life in my hands every time I ventured out in my wee low Fiesta. The speed that country boys drive at is beyond scary. Good news is that I'm on holiday next week. Lots to do. By the way did youse know that the bastard Rates Agency continues to charge rates on an uninhabited house if it has even one stick of furniture in it? So the pressure is on to empty this gaff as quickly as possible. I wonder if the Queen pays rates? Bet she doesn't and bet His Toniness doesn't either. I'm too sick to research it myself. It's the sort of crazy thing His Edness might know.

October the Third

Today we moved our beds, our music and the teapot to the new house.

I guess this is it.

We also moved houseplants, nearly all the books and almost all the kitchen stuff.

Still to go - Harry de Cat. And the PC. And our clothes and shoes. Oh yes, and toilet roll. Mustn't forget toilet roll.

Division of the Spoils

Today Ian and I had a chat about what I wanted to take from the garden. Sadly I cannot take my Stag's Horn Sumach (I love its furry branches) because it is just too big. Ian promised me he would take very good care of it. And that I could have visitation rights.

Reclaiming the Kitchen

Flipping Heck! I've just realised that I've got a lot of stuff to do. We've been saying for ages that we'll move into the new house in August and although lots of things have been chosen, less has been ordered and none has been fitted. Bert and I went to measure floors for tiles and so on. Now that the concrete floors are down and the walls are plastered the house looks scarily big. I've decided I'm not sure about the floor tiles, which are a neutral sandy colour, as there is going to be such a big expanse of them. I'd like to put linoleum in the bedrooms. Linoleum? Well it's clean, dog hair resistant, healthy and natural. It's also bloody expensive and hard to source. I've been in a few shops in Ballymena and have been looked at askance. One wee skitter started to tell me about this modern stuff called vinyl. Pah! They'll all be wanting lino in a couple of years time. Then Bert starts messing around with decisions we made years ago. In the kitchen/dining room there is a fireplace. We decided a long time ago to put a little stove in there. I didn't want any kind of fireplace in my kitchen but Bert did. I certainly did not want an open fire, as they attract men, so we compromised on a stove. Let me explain. All the time I've lived in this house the kitchen has been a room for living in as well. It's where the phone, fax and filing cabinet are kept. So Bert uses it as an office and entertains his mates in it from morning to night. Little wonder I hardly ever get it mopped. So in the new house Bert wants a sun room so he gets a sun room. It's not one of those silly looking things with a pointy ceiling that is stuck on to the side, it looks like part of the house - and it is. And it's there that Bert is going to keep his sofas, his phone, fax and filing cabinet and his hordes of long legged friends. He will also have his own little stove to keep him from hanging around mine. See I've got it all planned out. Years of feminism are ending up with Nelly reclaiming the kitchen! So despite the decision taken a year ago he said, "What shall we do with this kitchen fireplace? Shall we have an open fire?" No Bert we shall not. Definitely not. No way. Imagine all the men standing in front of it toasting their arses. Isn't going to happen. Then as if one nutty mama wasn't enough we've got Pearlie saying "I dinny like that house, I dinny like that oul Ballintoy dash ye's have on it. It makes my skin crawl." Even better that, than Matty's refusal to cut into an orange because the thought of it being bitter sets her teeth on edge. I wonder if I'll be mad and irrational when I'm seventy something? Probably. I'm more than halfway there already.

Moving On

I have an urge to pack our life away in preparation for the big move to Spring Hill later this year. My home-making days in this house are over so it doesn't make sense to have all this crap sitting around making my life harder than it need be. After all we all get on great on holiday with about 2% of our usual possessions. The thing is, I just know that as soon as it's been packed and stashed, that is when I'm going to think I need it. You should have seen the amount of boxes that Bert went through last night to find his copy of 'Stalingrad'.

I also have an urge to burn furniture. Is this a bad thing?