Packing hell

“We shall do a half-day pre-pack of all your glass and china on Friday,” they said.

8.30am and one man arrived to do just that. Then he was followed by two young men who wanted to pack up my bedroom… “just leave what clothes you want on your bed.” I had to grab my make-up and underwear before it was packed away. I almost had to wrestle my hairdrier out of his sweaty paws. Lord knows what else has gone, never to be found again this side of Tuesday.

I have just had to eat lunch off a purple picnic plate with plastic knife and fork. And the half-day pack has grown to 4pm. It’s going to be a minimal weekend.

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