Horrible, horrible week

Glad it's finally over, tbh!

We started moving out properly last week, shifting stuff in a removal van each day. We moved the beds across first, so that we could live in the new house and keep going back for our stuff. It was horrible, sweaty, hard work, but it didn't go too badly until Friday.

On Friday, I got to the old house at about 9:30 AM and mum arrived a little bit afterwards, as she had to sort stuff out at work first. My brother was home from uni, so he came across at about midday. Dad was working, so he got there a couple of hours after that. We worked non-stop, all day, thinking that we'd be able to get everything shifted by the evening.

We didn't finish until about 3:00 in the afternoon on Saturday. Literally. We worked all through Friday morning, Friday afternoon, Friday night, Saturday morning and Saturday Afternoon - all on empty stomachs, pretty much.

The removal man was somebody mum knows through work, and he was doing us a favour. Really nice man, but unfortunately there was an issue with time-keeping. He had to travel from London, so traffic delayed him on Friday. He was supposed to arrive at 5:00PM on Friday afternoon to pick up the heavier stuff, that couldn't be shifted in the car. He didn't arrive until 7:30, though! He'd said at the beginning of the week that he'd get somebody in to help him with the heavy stuff, but I don't really know what happened with that. My brother had to help him carry that stuff down (washing machine, tumble dryer, cooker, huge dressers, etc.). Mum and I tried to lift some of the stuff down ourselves, but we couldn't. Her leg was really bad and I'd hurt my back.

We eventually got the heavy stuff in the removal van at about 9:00PM. My brother went with the man to help him unload the stuff, while the rest of us ferried things down in the car. About an hour later, he phoned to say that there wasn't enough space to unload all of the stuff - this was before we'd even brought anything down in the car. So there was a lot of panic about that. Dad went down to the house to sort that out, which took until about 11:00PM.

Mum, James and I were all back at the house by about 12:00AM, getting the house cleared so that people could go through, while dad was back at the old place, loading more things into the car. After a couple of hours, mum went back to help with that. They'd unload the car into the back garden, then go back for more while I put the stuff away. Annoyingly, my brother had buggered off to bed at that point! Can't really blame him, though.

At about 5:00AM, I went back with them to help load things into the car. I don't think words can even describe how tired/achy/in pain everybody was at this point!

When we eventually got the last bit sorted out, we went to a diner for a huge breakfast/lunch!

We're basically all dead on our feet now, so mum and dad have gone on a well-earned day out to relax!

Oh dear - house moving is always traumatic, which is why I try not to do it.

However, my daughter has moved house 10 times in almost as many years and I have been roped in on every one. As most of the places were rented, my remit has been to clean each place top to bottom for the "march-out" inspection, and then helping to unpack the other end. So I DO understand, believe me!

Have a good rest now everyone, and enjoy Christmas in your lovely new home s to all.

Thanks!

Sod's law, though - my brother and the removal man thought that the most convenient place to leave mum and dad's huuuuuuuge, heavy wardrobe would be outside my bedroom. Hence why I'll be spending our third night here on the sofa again! I've managed to dig out my blanket, though. Last night, I had to use Dempsey's ratty, chewed up blanket - and he'd left poop marks on it!

It's too late now for you of course, but as you might imagine my daughter has become an expert in moving house and puts labels on every piece of furniture, every bag and every box as to which room each should be put (with a little map if necessary!).

I hate hate hate hate hate moving furniture so I totally sympathise!

They both knew where it was supposed to go! There was just so much stuff to move and not enough space to move it!

The worst part was the stress, tbh. I'm just so glad it's over.

Moving home is stressful - it's the law!

Didn't help that we had ~20 years of stuff built up!

That happens! And that's why skip hire is such big business.

Speaking of companies... the first removal company that mum contacted wanted £1600 to move all of our stuff!

I've got to be honest, I've no idea what removal companies cost. We've always done it ourselves, by hiring a big drive-yourself van and loading and unloading it ourselves. Of course this would not work over longer distances than, say, 20 miles, because at least two trips are more than probable. Not an easy option it's true, and exhausting, but possible for a normal size household.

Which is why I never want to do it again!

Up until this time we'd always done it ourselves - just me and my oh! But with him being 61 now, and me not far behind (and with a dodgy knee which has got steadily worse over the last few months) I knew we wouldn't be able to do the heavy stuff ourselves.

The guy that helped is a really lovely man - very kind, thoughtful etc. But he didn't have anyone with him which meant that my oh, myself, Eleanor & my son all had to chip in, which is exactly what I didn't want!

My energy totally gave out at about 5.30am Saturday morning - I was literally in tears & couldn't carry on. Eleanor and my oh, however, were absolutely brilliant. How they carried on as long as they did I'll never know. Totally heroic.

You did more than anybody else, even though your leg was hurting!

I'm glad it's all out of the way for you now - I hate moving house, and hope I've done it for the last time (I accumulate books like they're going out of fashion). I hope you can all have a bit of a rest over Christmas and that you're happy in your new home.

Yeah, the worst is over! Hardest part now is unpacking, but that can be done gradually.

Could have done without what happened just now, though! Dad was carrying our old fat fryer (yuck!) and spilled the entire contents, which hadn't been emptied, onto the kitchen floor. And guess who was left to clean it up!

Dempsey?