In Limbo
We're in our hotel room. I just turned on the telly to keep Sarah from pestering us and happened to flip to the Olympic closing ceremonies on BBC One. It was perfect timing - we saw the mayor of Beijing hand over the Olympic flag to Boris Johnson for 2012. (I've been passing the Olympic site in Stratford on my train every day and have watched its construction progress.) The eight minute London show was neat - Leona Lewis singing "Whole Lotta Love" with Jimmy Page - but I got a bit weepy seeing the red double bus and especially the bus stop sign - it's something I've been seeing every day and reminded me that I won't be seeing it. It's a fabulous, massively cool city, I've been proud to work and be there, and I will bloody well miss it.
For the next few days we'll be between homes. It's a bittersweet time for us.
Yesterday was a busy day. Margo was still away on her overnight celebration. I woke at 6:30 and started packing and sorting. When Sarah got up we ate the pastries I'd picked up the day before, making myself one more cup of instant coffee before packing up the kettle. Sarah helped as she could with cleaning the fridge, freezer and cabinets. Late morning a minivan pulled up outside. The charity had called me two days before and said due to transport problems they couldn't pick up our donation that day, so a woman who had picked up other items from us via Freecycle had said she would take anything else we could spare for a charity project she works with. I'd emailed her and here she was, taking our dishes, printer, lamps, telly, odds and ends, and even things I'd assumed we'd have to throw away - towels, blankets, even the unlaundered sheets we'd just slept in. Margo arrived as we loaded their van, and in twenty minutes we were pretty much cleaned out.
But we still had lots of cleaning to do. I finished with the kitchen, then fired up the Dyson I'd borrowed from John and Nicola and went to work filling its cylinder with hairs and dust and cobwebs. I survived encounters with the dropped leaflets and dust monsters of the Neglected Laptop Desk of Doom as well as the Dresser of Death And Bogey Museum. By the time I finished the Dyson was begging to be put out of its misery.
John had invited us round mid-afternoon for red wine, a heavenly offer, and as we packed our clothes we saw we'd just about make it. These things always take longer than you think - you look around a room and think, "This won't take long", but it does. We dropped Sarah at theirs, then took some last boxes - my iMac and Margo's textbooks - to the post and sorted out the forms. Then, sitting outside with a glass of red - my first chance to relax - I just about shut down for a while. There are so many marks to hit, boxes to tick, and we'd pretty much completed them. (Well, Virgin was supposed to come round that afternoon and disconnect our cable, and I left the parts between the doors with a note and my mobile number, but unfortunately it seems they didn't come round, one last thing for me to sort Tuesday after our bank holiday weekend.) And so we lounged for a while, Sarah and Elliot riding bikes in the alley behind.
When it was time to say our goodbyes, I felt too distracted by the Virgin thing, and too exhausted by the move, to feel sentimental. We loaded our bags, got into our car, and drove down our street for the last time just like we were going for a Sunday drive. It wasn't until we were on the A12 that Sarah started sobbing in the back seat and talking about how she wished we didn't have to move and how she's missing her friends. Margo started consoling her, talking about our new lives we're moving towards, and how you have to end some things to start new things, and I realised: but this is exactly the time we should be feeling sad. And I started thinking about the people and places we won't be seeing and then I was sobbing too (but really quietly and manlily). And if Margo didn't have to drive, she probably would have been too. Because we are all leaving relationships and experiences that have been important to us, and we all have need to mourn.
So now we're in a hotel, doing absolutely nothing, by design. We have our last Saturday Guardian and our last Sunday Times and lots of paperbacks. We have a laptop with Solitaire and 24 hours of wifi.
Tomorrow a cab Margo reserved will take us to a hotel at Gatwick. I have a phone interview in the afternoon and the next morning we fly to Vancouver. We go through Customs, pick up our bags, get our rental car, and meet someone at our rental flat, and we'll be home again.
For the next few days we'll be between homes. It's a bittersweet time for us.
Yesterday was a busy day. Margo was still away on her overnight celebration. I woke at 6:30 and started packing and sorting. When Sarah got up we ate the pastries I'd picked up the day before, making myself one more cup of instant coffee before packing up the kettle. Sarah helped as she could with cleaning the fridge, freezer and cabinets. Late morning a minivan pulled up outside. The charity had called me two days before and said due to transport problems they couldn't pick up our donation that day, so a woman who had picked up other items from us via Freecycle had said she would take anything else we could spare for a charity project she works with. I'd emailed her and here she was, taking our dishes, printer, lamps, telly, odds and ends, and even things I'd assumed we'd have to throw away - towels, blankets, even the unlaundered sheets we'd just slept in. Margo arrived as we loaded their van, and in twenty minutes we were pretty much cleaned out.
But we still had lots of cleaning to do. I finished with the kitchen, then fired up the Dyson I'd borrowed from John and Nicola and went to work filling its cylinder with hairs and dust and cobwebs. I survived encounters with the dropped leaflets and dust monsters of the Neglected Laptop Desk of Doom as well as the Dresser of Death And Bogey Museum. By the time I finished the Dyson was begging to be put out of its misery.
John had invited us round mid-afternoon for red wine, a heavenly offer, and as we packed our clothes we saw we'd just about make it. These things always take longer than you think - you look around a room and think, "This won't take long", but it does. We dropped Sarah at theirs, then took some last boxes - my iMac and Margo's textbooks - to the post and sorted out the forms. Then, sitting outside with a glass of red - my first chance to relax - I just about shut down for a while. There are so many marks to hit, boxes to tick, and we'd pretty much completed them. (Well, Virgin was supposed to come round that afternoon and disconnect our cable, and I left the parts between the doors with a note and my mobile number, but unfortunately it seems they didn't come round, one last thing for me to sort Tuesday after our bank holiday weekend.) And so we lounged for a while, Sarah and Elliot riding bikes in the alley behind.
When it was time to say our goodbyes, I felt too distracted by the Virgin thing, and too exhausted by the move, to feel sentimental. We loaded our bags, got into our car, and drove down our street for the last time just like we were going for a Sunday drive. It wasn't until we were on the A12 that Sarah started sobbing in the back seat and talking about how she wished we didn't have to move and how she's missing her friends. Margo started consoling her, talking about our new lives we're moving towards, and how you have to end some things to start new things, and I realised: but this is exactly the time we should be feeling sad. And I started thinking about the people and places we won't be seeing and then I was sobbing too (but really quietly and manlily). And if Margo didn't have to drive, she probably would have been too. Because we are all leaving relationships and experiences that have been important to us, and we all have need to mourn.
So now we're in a hotel, doing absolutely nothing, by design. We have our last Saturday Guardian and our last Sunday Times and lots of paperbacks. We have a laptop with Solitaire and 24 hours of wifi.
Tomorrow a cab Margo reserved will take us to a hotel at Gatwick. I have a phone interview in the afternoon and the next morning we fly to Vancouver. We go through Customs, pick up our bags, get our rental car, and meet someone at our rental flat, and we'll be home again.
posted by Michael Nelson at 6:22 am
1 Comments:
Oh woah is me. I am sad too. I have enjoyed living vicariously through your adventures and experiences. I miss England too. Sarah looks soooo cute in those pictures. I love you all!!!!
Brenda
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