It is now the evening of a significant day, fraught with exhaustion, doubts, sentimentality and cardboard cartons. It is definitely a moment for toast and Vegemite and a cup of tea. Fortunately, here at Sophie & Dan's place they are able to supply such comfort food: thanks, Sophie & Dan! Luv ya!
My lovely little house is now empty of my possessions; well, if you don't count all the big bookshelves and so on that I have left there for the new tenants. The movers spent all day shoving and stacking The Stuff into storage containers in their big truck. They estimated that it came to 60 cubic metres - down from the 92 originally estimated. I am very proud of that.
The day held a few poignant moments, including the one where I saw my lovely piano sitting out in the driveway and almost lost my composure. Then there was the Lead Packer, who built himself a little 'desk' of cardboard boxes, on which to do his paperwork - there was a lot of listing and record keeping because The Stuff is all going into storage. He set up his cardboard desk on the footpath in front of my house. At various times through the day I would see him perched in front of it on a chair from my front room or my dining room. Then, rather memorably, he moved his generous butt into an expensive reproduction period French occasional chair, that cost me a fortune. I was returning from a foray to the cafe for a much needed caffeine fix when I spied this vision on the roadside. 'Ah, well', I thought. 'That's a sight you don't often see.'
Speaking of the cafe, I did hunker down there on several occasions, with coffee and the press. Of course you could say that I was in a fairly delicate state today, but I actually shed a tear when I read a little tirade by Paul Keating in today's 'Herald'. Not because Keating was having a tirade, but because it took me back to the days when politics was passionate and politicians were articulate and in-your-face and got mad about things. But that was a long time ago.
I received a lovely note from a friend today (who shall remain nameless unless she gives me permission to mention her). She paid me a very extravagant compliment: "You are my most interesting friend after the Shanty Singer and the World Class guitarist." I cannot think of higher praise than to be called 'interesting'. I will try my best to live up to the accolade.
At Sophie's suggestion, I have moved my doona, pillows and red bedcover onto her spare bed, so I have kind of re-created my bedroom in Sophie's spare room. This is very comforting tonight, and is better than thinking about the pleasant 3k walk around my suburb that I won't be doing again, or the sofa in front of the fire that I won't be lying on, or the lovingly selected pictures and rugs that I won't be living with.
OK! That's enough of that!