Monday 24^th March, 2003.

Hi there.

I am writing this now after a very traumatic weekend.

I had my leaving drinks from work last Friday and so I woke up with a hangover early on Saturday morning. For me, one of the most demoralising events is when after getting up avec hangover you realise that your car is seven miles and a bus trip into the city centre away. Okay, so I pick the car up, pick up tyre that was in for puncture repair (except that they didn’t repair it!), S has a dental appointment so I drop here to that, and then home for breakfast by 11.00am.

We were moving out of the house on Sunday so that was quite a bit of work to do. You know, packing, cleaning, moaning about the headache (from night before) etc. More packing boxes were purchased and some delightfully cool vacuum bags. Now these ain’t no bags for the hoover. These bags you stick your clothes into and then attach the hoover at one end and turn it on. The air empties out of the bag. The clothes and bag shrink and voila, you have a rock solid sculpture of what used to be your clothes!

Then 2.00pm comes up and it’s the 20 year formality of whupping Wales in Cardiff. Did I say formality? My Mam and Dad came by for lunch and to watch the second half. Up until now they wouldn’t have been aware of the quantity and variation of profanities that I have learnt over the last 32 years but they certainly had a new experience during the last ten minutes (and six minutes of extra time….) For those out there who aren’t rugby fans we beat wales 25-24 with a third minute of injury time drop goal by Ronan O’Gara to set up a Grand Slam clash with the auld foe England next Sunday.

The folks left shortly after and I get down to the task of shipping various items off to their separate storage locations. Thanks to all those who have made their garden sheds, spare rooms and attics available to us for the next 6 to 12 months.

Finished Saturday with a last bottle of wine and last soak in the bath for a year. (I will be having showers though for those who are nasely challenged)

Sunday. D-Day. Up at 8.00am, shower and breakfast. Then it’s packing and cleaning right up the last moment at 3.00pm when the two girls come around to accept the keys and we say goodbye to the house. Very Very traumatic. Mam and Dad Mullally come to the rescue though with a roast dinner beyond comparison for the second time in two Sundays. Roast Beef, Roast Spuds, carrots, broccoli and Mullally’s own special gravy. Followed by Apple crumble with fresh cream. S, why are we going away again? Only joking!

So one week to go, five working days, no bed of our own but a massive thanks to Karen and Joe for putting us up. We owe you big time.

S is still promising to write a few updates but apparently she is just to damn busy!

Slan,

E