Genevieve's Journeys

Yesterday I came home to the Haggis Welcome Home Dance, which used to be 'loves loves loves, gimme loves', but now consists of following you around the house yelling at you til you open the patio door.

Haggis is feeling the lack of her private door, and is making the most of opportunities.

So while the sun was up, she sat on the patio taking the air, looking wholly uninterested in the Out. I think it's the free will option of out that she misses.

However, as I came home from a shop at dusk, Out was suddenly a lot more appealing, and as it grew darker, I found she'd abandoned the patio and was On Patrol.

I wandered out a few times to call for her and she'd come racing out of the shadows, chatting the whole way, sometimes racing back via a tree. Just mad.

I finally think it's time for bed, but nooooo, Haggis doesn't agree. I follow her round the front of the building (not nearly as attractive, lots of cars, lots of paving, stairs, gloomy places) but can't catch up with her. I return to the patio in the hopes she'll sort it herself.

RRRRRRING. My new neighbour Maggie, who shows all signs of incipient Crazeee Kat Lady, has rung at the door, asking if Haggis is in or not - she's spotted a tabby in the front yard wandering and chatting to herself, and is concerned that she's 'disoriented'.

To me this sounds perfectly normal happy Haggis behaviour, but I follow her out and find Haggis under a car and between us I manage to grab her to take her back.

DO NOT WANT. The Front Out is a new discovery, needs exploring! Can't be cut off now! Grump.

We return via the front door...thus confirming to the cat that the Front Door Goes Somewhere Interesting.

This morning, guess who escapes through the front door? I was my usual careful self, but now knowing that some splendid Out was waiting on the other side, Haggis laid on some extra speed and agility and deked out the door way faster than I expected a cobby cat to dodge.

I spent a few minutes following her round the entrances to the flats - all concrete, all dull, not nearly as attractive on the outside as the insides and back yard of the flats. But you have to find these things out yourself don't you?

I nab her as she pauses to survey the view from a parapet, and she hisses, which is a first of strong language from her - usually reserved for novice vets. DO NOT WANT, which part of DO NOT WANT do you not understand??

SO: getting the damn glazier in to cut a catflap is now high priority. I don't mind her having in/out privileges, not even late-night ones, but I can't play porter for her all hours.

because that's my life right now!

Highlights:

Move went fairly smoothly. All our stuff is now at our new place, we've checked out of the old one and handed over the keys, and are sorting the last of the services.

It went as well as it did because we had awesome help: RA, part of the Kiwi network, and her highness Eleanor went gangbusters on packing and clearing the kitchen, and shlepping stuff down to the ground floor. This was building on the great goodwill from last week when we had more packers than boxes available: we're still pushing their good work around the lounge.

This heap of boxes outside the flat, ready to go, was a huge boon because the men-and-van were late; we were the second job of their day, and they were keen to minimise their work.

Robert had warned them about the routes into the flat (round the garden path, literally, or up and down some serious stairs) and we all opted for the garden path. They'd underestimated the time required to both load and unload, and Robert's guess was much closer, and they and we weren't finished til 8.30 at night.

I'd gone ahead to the new place, to meet thorngrove, who'd offered to help unpack, and we filled the wait for the moving van with dinner on the Kingsbury high street.

Thank all the appropriate sources it wasn't raining on Saturday. The skies opened on Sunday morning and we thanked the sources again.

On Sunday we were joined by Earl Paul and Lady Anne, who were wonderfully refreshing and cheery and went to work scrubbing, scooping up bits and sweeping through.

Ozbeg arrived midafternoon, and we were able to use the ancient and honourable traditional vehicle of the SCA (station wagons predate SUVs) to move the last 2% of stuff, which grew to about 4% when we remembered the huge wall decoration (lovely reproduction of a brass plaque of a 14th c lord and lady) which would not fit into an eco-vehicle.

By end of Sunday we were like zombies: having trouble focusing on more than one thing at once. It took me 20 minutes to make coffee on Monday morning, something that usually takes 5 mins.

If someone asked me a question I lost the thread of what I was doing and struggled to pick it up - this ability is only slowly returning. Having dozens of things to put away is not helping.

SO: we're moved, all our stuff (so far) survived the trip, there were no tears, Robert and I still like each other, and (as far as we know) our friends still like us.

Haggis has coped admirably. She commented on the trip occasionally on the 45 min car ride in her carrier, and set to exploring as soon as we let her out of the bathroom. She's hopping up and down to Explore the New Out, but we're keeping her indoors for a few days yet, to get used to the space.

She's used the litter under sufferance, after checking the new space very thoroughly for other options and exits; clearly civilised kittehs use the great outdoors for preference.

She's found that the coarse doormat is excellent for clawing, which is fine with us, and the windows are a good height for CatTV.

Downsides

The fridge and freezer don't work, as we discovered the day after Robert had stocked the freezer.

They're 'integrated' units (read: more expensive ones, built to hide behind the cupboards) and someone defrosted the freezer with a sharp tool, possibly damaging it. The visible damage was obvious, but It wasn't obvious the cool-making no longer worked, b/c neither were turned on high.

Fortunately this was patently Not Our Fault, and the engineer confirmed on Monday that replacement was the only way to go. Will be sorted ASAP, mainly by someone else doing the hard work. Halellujah.

The recycling scheme in this borough is shameful: 'apartments' and other shared buildings don't yet have food waste recycling (which is available in our last borough, has been for years), and the rest of the recycling seems rudimentary.

There are 3 lonely bins that would normally serve one house, available for the whole complex of 37 flats, which seems mad. Someone is slacking on providing this service.

And: the recycling service doesn't take cardboard. Hello? what century is this?

Guess what we have lots of right now??

Today I investigated the housing association which owns our complex, and left a message for the housing manager. Now waiting for a reply.

The most alarming part of this move: no intawebs.

Phone and broadband transfer was supposed to happen on Monday. We have phone, but no intawebs.

I feel like a smoker trying to quit, who is cadging smokes off strangers (hey buddy, can I read my email on your tablet? can you spare me some surf minutes?).

I keep going in mental circles with my to-do list, because almost every task involves checking something online: when the garbage is collected, how to register to vote, sorting council tax, even just browsing for new shelves.

There's no longer handy Argos or IKEA catalogues left lying around, not even a phone book, the way there were when we last moved. It was a near-invisible change (no longer getting catalogues) but man, I feel helpless without a connection!

Next steps

Sorting intawebs, and the dreaded Trip to IKEA for shelving...