A Mission And A Half To Say The Least.

I've had a bit of a blog break recently, due to a number of factors that all revolve around the same mind-boggling experience; moving house.


Considering that from the moment I moved into my previous flat I'd been counting down the days till I could move out again, you'd think that last Monday would have been a pleasant, joyful day. Well, you'd be wrong. I certainly was. Firstly, for the van I hired I was told I needed a bank statement to prove I had the money to pay for it. It turns out that actually I needed a bank statement for proof of address. As I don't receive paper statements (save the world and all that), I printed one off, which doesn't have my address on. Cue panic for twenty minutes until the boss of the company decides I look trustworthy enough to borrow the van for the day. Phew.


Google Maps is an adequate service. It tells you how to get somewhere, how long its going to take, and how to avoid toll roads. What it doesn't do, however, is tell you which roads should be condemned to traffic hell, and also which boyfriends who do not drive should not be on direction duty. Cue 40 minute journey actually taking two hours, and arriving to meet the inventory clerk in a very flustered state. Besides this, I was fuming as I was directed the wrong way into the congestion zone for all of 30 seconds before doing a u-turn and getting back onto the right road. And yes, that 30 second foray into the centre of London does mean that I have to pay the £10 congestion charge for the entire day.


So the check in is done, half our boxes are sitting in the living room, and we wait to get the keys from the incredibly incompetent letting agent who has been pretty much useless throughout the whole process. We are given one set of keys. Hang on a minute... there are two of us. Where are the other keys? Oh, great question! The last tenent only gave one set back. This was the final straw for my already short patience, and the moment when I physically banged my head against a brick (and plaster) wall. I should have maybe thought this through, as the letting agent didn't seem to understand that my frustration was aimed solely at him, my boyfriend was mortified, and I had an unsightly red mark on my forehead. And no, I didn't feel better afterwards.


Next move; back again through the traffic (slightly different route so only took an hour and a half), took a van load to the boyfriend's parents house, had dinner, and back to the flat to finish the final load. Somehow, by the time we'd finished this it was 10.30pm. Bearing in mind that one person had been by the van all day watching out for potential thieves and even worse, traffic wardens, we thought that at 10.30 at night we'd be safe to leave the van for ten minutes to say goodbye to the old housemate and get the final box. Once again, we thought wrong. Thieves had been thwarted throughout the day but those sneaky traffic wardens will wait and wait until you turn your back for one second and shazamm!!!! I have a £100 penalty charge notice, at 10.37pm. Bearing in mind that the van cost me £29 for the day, and I'm now an extra £110 out of pocket. By this point the trauma of the day became too much, and I reverted to the 5 year old's notion... cry. Very mature I'm sure.


So, journey to new flat, unload van, drive van back to depot, unlock the gates, drive in, leave van. This was the moment that the boyfriend had to prove himself after a lot of driving on my part... he just had to lock the gates behind us with the padlock we'd be given. However, at this point it was half past midnight, and clearly brain cells were fried. He managed to shut the padlock on one gate, without interlocking the other one first. Cue a night of worrying that the depot would get ransacked and we'd have to pay for it. (I got my deposit back the next day so our fears were unfounded, but you can never be too sure.)


All in all, a very long and stressful day. On the upside, our new place looks lovely and we have a balcony, which was perfect for the much needed glass (bottle) of champagne at the end of the day. I think there are going to be many more to come.