11th July 2012

Last Tuesday, Nan’s internet connection was finally installed. A minor triumph, but in this house, we take our victories where we can. Royal Mail, meanwhile, decided to amuse itself by hiding my parcels in plain sight. After several rounds of phone tag, I discovered the missing pieces had been lurking in the post office all along, their version of hide-and-seek, though sadly without prizes.

On Wednesday, I mounted a rescue mission to collect Sarah from Thurcroft. Nan treated us to a pub lunch en route, which was a welcome distraction from the impending avalanche of cardboard boxes. I also managed to squeeze an entire wardrobe into my car, proving once again that my Tetris skills are wasted on video games.

Thursday brought my six-monthly encounter with the dentist. Imagine a medieval torture chamber with brighter lighting and more paperwork. The good news: no fillings. The bad news: I still had to sit through it.

Saturday descended into chaos when I delivered Sarah to her new shared lodgings in Sheffield, which looked as though a small skirmish had taken place. I then ferried a truckload of appliances back to Nan’s flat, silently mourning the loss of my backseat.

Sunday, mercifully, was a change of pace. Sue and I enjoyed a splendid lunch at Joules Eating House and were serenaded by a band covering Neil Young. For a brief moment, it felt like we’d slipped back into the 1970s, minus the flares and dodgy sideburns. We capped the evening with a film at the Harborough Theatre with The Artist, proof, if ever it was needed, that silence really can be golden.

Monday was more of the same: I trekked back to Thurcroft, feeling like the Lone Ranger with a boot full of loot. Charlotte joined later, having taken the scenic tour of Sheffield. Another pub lunch (Nan does know how to keep spirits up), then both cars were stuffed to bursting with her belongings. By the time we reached Harborough, we resembled a travelling circus hauling half of Yorkshire with us. Nan’s flat now resembled the aftermath of a controlled explosion, but at least she was in.

Tuesday saw the unpacking begin in earnest. Sue bravely took charge of Ellis, the human equivalent of juggling a live grenade, while Charlotte, Sarah, and I soldiered on. Nan, still the hostess with the mostest, treated us to yet another pub lunch.

Today, with most boxes finally tamed, Sue ventured into our garage to sort through Nan’s overflow, which was like stepping into a time capsule.

To round off this whirlwind, Lucas managed a dramatic tumble at school and ended up in hospital. Thankfully, children’s heads are sturdier than they look, and he emerged with nothing worse than a lump, though no doubt a good story for the playground.