Where's My Stuff?
It's been a pretty exhausting weekend. On Wednesday our packing boxes arrived at work and Tinseltroos and I man-handled them back to Tinseltowers before dividing them up and loading my half, along with me into a cab to head back to Atrocity Acres so I could begin the entertaining task of packing all my worldly possessions into the aforementioned. Over Thursday and Friday night I managed to pack my books away, a herculean task in itself, and over the weekend I've packed DVD players, kitchen equipment and nearly all my other treasures and now here I sit on my floor (the table and bookshelves got flat-packed) writing away looking at the bare walls of my little room. It's very strange to think that in a week I will have a very different life indeed.
Last week it really finally dawned on me that my seven year spell in Atrocity Acres was coming to an end. As I walked into work, on the same route I've used on bus or foot for nearly nine years, it was sobering to realise that now I am to do it only five more times. All the areas I know so well and have watched change over the nine years I've been in London will suddenly not be my neighbourhood anymore. The pub that has been my local for all the time I've been here will cease to be such, the local shopkeepers will eventually become strangers. I think this week I shall have to try to experience my favourite parts of the neighbourhood for one last time as a local, rather than an occasional visitor.
Within my room it all feels so odd too. I am a natural cave-dweller and have thus, over the years, carefully built up my room to be a densely packed expression of myself. And now it's all in boxes or on a pile to go to the charity shop or eBay.
Please don't think I'm regretting making the move, very far from it, but it's only at the eleventh hour that you open your eyes to what you will no longer experience on a daily basis.
By this time next week I will be in Tinseltroos and my first home together. That is a wonderful thought. It is the intervening week of contracts, keys, inventories and removals that fills me with dread.
Last week it really finally dawned on me that my seven year spell in Atrocity Acres was coming to an end. As I walked into work, on the same route I've used on bus or foot for nearly nine years, it was sobering to realise that now I am to do it only five more times. All the areas I know so well and have watched change over the nine years I've been in London will suddenly not be my neighbourhood anymore. The pub that has been my local for all the time I've been here will cease to be such, the local shopkeepers will eventually become strangers. I think this week I shall have to try to experience my favourite parts of the neighbourhood for one last time as a local, rather than an occasional visitor.
Within my room it all feels so odd too. I am a natural cave-dweller and have thus, over the years, carefully built up my room to be a densely packed expression of myself. And now it's all in boxes or on a pile to go to the charity shop or eBay.
Please don't think I'm regretting making the move, very far from it, but it's only at the eleventh hour that you open your eyes to what you will no longer experience on a daily basis.
By this time next week I will be in Tinseltroos and my first home together. That is a wonderful thought. It is the intervening week of contracts, keys, inventories and removals that fills me with dread.
Labels: introspection, london, plans, weekend
scribbled hastily by Mr Atrocity at 8:46 pm
2 Comments:
Good luck on this new phase of your life.
Thank you.
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