Moving On 2 - Last Suppers

So you have successfully cleared your cupboards and your fridge, donating as much as possible, and trying not to imagine how many families would be fed for a week by the 3/4-filled jar of red lentils you just poured into the bin. You're leaving in less than 48 hours, and do not have time to find someone to take 2 half-used packets of Basmati rice, a jar of Mrs Elswood sweet sliced pickles and a bottle of Paul Newman's honey-mustard salad dressing. It is nearly 3 pm, and you have to eat something. Time to go to the supermarket (and deposit the unopened food items with ok sell-by dates in their donation bin).

Here's the thing - what may a vegetarian without a working oven, or any pots or pans, or dishes or plates, and who packed the kettle already - what might such a person bring home for lunch and dinner?

And don't forget the lack of cutlery, or drinking utensils.

I came home with some Tyrrell's sweet chilli crisps (only £1), a plastic pot of tomato and wheatberry soup, an innocent strawberry smoothie, a roll of tall bin bags, a few avocado sushi and - the piece de resistance - vegetarian spring rolls!

Note to self:  there were no sachets of sauce included - WHAT WERE YOU THINKING? Well, possibly that the sweet chilli crisps would ameliorate both the lack of sweet chilli sauce and the crunchiness of a fresh spring roll. You were wrong.

Another note to self:  Modenese-Chinese fusion is not well-represented by using precious artisanal balsamico as a substitute for soy sauce.

I weep for my carbon footprint today. Now, back to the final phase of packing - the suitcases!

Moving On 1

Some boxes in the garage

Boxes. Cardboard boxes. Cardboard boxes with all the flaps still present, rather than ripped off in haste by whoever had to stock the shelves. I decided to go with wine boxes, the ones that held 6 bottles. I figured that even when they were stuffed with the heaviest books, if necessary I would still be able to carry them.

The guys in the Majestic Wine shop keep a wall of empty boxes ten or so high to use instead of shopping bags for customers. When the wall was at least 6 boxes high, once a day they would let me take as many as I could carry. That would be 7. After a few days of this, someone asked me if I actually even liked wine. I explained that I am kind of allergic to alcohol (true - albeit mildly. It makes me feel like fire ants are crawling across my scalp. The ants are ambling, rather than fighting. Still, it's not very pleasant. The same thing happens to me with chilli).  I didn't mention that I mostly drink Palwins Number 10. Say no more. It took me several days to dare to ask the grumpy one if I could use one of their shopping trolleys instead of my hands. 

Actually, people can be so lovely. As I tried to push a laden supermarket trolley of vari-sized boxes over the cattle grid leading to the main road, the security guard forbade me. "The trolleys do not leave the car park!" After explaining my situation, promising to return it within 30 minutes and a bit of a chat to find out more about him, M. let me go. Upon my return, S. in the wine & beer section said if I came back the next day, he'd flatten and save me a few more. Over the next 3 days I got c. 75 boxes from this lovely man. And, as I plodded up and down Ballards Lane, trying to control a trolley that clearly had vertigo, various people offered me more containers, or names of people to ask for in other supermarkets. And all this during the worst of the heatwave. So so kind. Nu, I made sure to call the manager to name-check the guys who were so helpful, although I did not give details in case M. got into trouble for letting a trolley out of bounds!

The best part? Instead of the companies paying money to destroy these boxes, we were recycling. Evviva! 

So, for two weeks I was obsessed with boxes. And packing tape (the cheap kind doesn't stay stuck in the heat). And freebie newspapers with which to wrap, and stuff crevices (one day in the far future I shall unwrap a Rosenthal soup tureen and wonder who on earth Clare Balding was). So far I have packed 170+ boxes. Who knew that somebody like me would have so many books? & photographs? slides... -ves ... papers ... STUFF.

Shabbat is nearly here. Cannot wait for a bit of a rest.

thursday thirteen xix

Thirteen Things about Movers and Moving
today the movers came to take the stuff i am sending to live in some containers for a while. what is left behind must be crammed by me and d. into a van and my car so we can drive off tomorrow and say goodbye to port woebegone. here are some thoughts about this morning's experience.

1. the sound of the sofa being shrink-wrapped makes a peacock sound lyrical.
2. movers may look scrawny but they are bloody strong!
3. why did i not start packing earlier? i did?
4. there are enough tins of garbanzo beans in my cupboard to survive a (short) war.
5. movers get first dibs on your kerbside castaways.
6. why are all my dust bunnies purple?
7. i didn't realise that i had so many cd's/books/paperclips
8. ultra-sticky wrapping tape dances to the tune of the moving men
9. what do i do now there's nothing to sit on?
10. just found what used to be my favourite shirt!
11. by the end you chuck out anything that does not fit in a box. (the neighbour's cat is missing)
12. when the movers have gone, you find a whole lot of other stuff that should have gone with them.
13. it is only when the movers have gone that you realise your favourite sex toy was drying off right next to the sink where they washed their hands.

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