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Up super early to go to the old house, as a van was coming from the British Heart Foundation to take the rest of our furniture. They are surprisingly fussy about what they will take - you need to have fire resistance tags on sofas and chairs (who leaves those on?) and they'd rejected a very nice chest of drawers before because it had an easily buffable bit of damage on top. There was a pretty new wardrobe in Phoebe's room that we can't fit into the new place, but they said they couldn't take that either because it was painted. Even though that was how we'd bought it. I thought that I might have to waste much of my week finding someone to take this off me, or dismantle it so I could dump it, but we offered it for free to the vendors who lapped it up like hungry cats. Most people we've bought from have tried to sell us stuff and most people who've bought from us have tried to get us to pay for repairs or whatever. I am very much of the school of thought that if someone is giving you hundreds of thousands of pounds for a house you can chuck in a washing machine without asking for fifty quid for it.
We are soft touches. But I'd rather be that to be honest.
I got the last of my possessions out, including my polystyrene grave stone and that might be me done here. It should be off our hands by the end of the month, saving the vendors some money on stamp duty. No tears as I left. It's not my house any more. Unless something goes wrong. Ah shit.
I'd had no sleep and today was just filled with stuff to do. We had to sign forms about the house and get them posted off. I popped out for lunch with Catie, but the place she wanted to go was closed today and the place they recommended to us was booked up, so we went to Hitchin's new Gails (never been to one before). It was fine. The bit we were in had a lot of mums and kids and for some reason today every kid in there was fascinated by me. I always like to pull faces at kids and give them some good free entertainment, but three babies just stared at me and a two year old girl laughed at me. I had to ask if I had something on my face. But I think maybe I just look like a living cartoon. It's nice to have babies like you. That has to be a sign that there's something good within me. Or something on my face. Either way, it's something.
Then I headed into London to get my phone replaced or repaired. I assumed the former, but the guy I gave it into seemed to think they might be able to replace both the glass and the screen and by 5.30pm. It made things a bit tight as I had to get back home to look after the kids by about 6.40pm as Catie had a gig in town. But I was impressed by the speed.
I mooched around Covent Garden. I saw a woman sitting on the floor offering tarot readings for £5, her sign claimed it was for charity, but you never know. She got some business. I thought about having a go, but I want to be surprised by my bad fortune. I saw a security guard radioing in about the woman. Was he going to get her arrested for her harmless scam/charity collection? No one seemed bothered, but then I guess the woman must have known that. The cards would have foretold it. If she knows she's getting moved on she just doesn't go in.
The Apple Genii did an amazing job and gave me back my repaired phone by 5.15pm. I got on the tube and sat opposite a man who kept looking at the window behind me to adjust his not particularly interesting hair. I've never seen someone keep staring at themselves and pulling at their fringe for quite as long as this unexceptional man seemed to be doing. Every pull seemed to do nothing to his blob of hair. But he kept on staring just above me, at himself, adjusting nothing. I wanted to shout "You look fine" but I didn't.
Despite the train I was aiming for getting cancelled (apparently trains can't say anything any more) I got the next one and was home with five minutes to spare. More importantly I had my phone working again. Though I enjoyed the 24 hours of having to read a book and try and find wifi for my ipad. I could give up my phone any time.
