Andrew Kay: Back home

We’re back and it’s not a day too soon.

Our enforced exile to the city centre was an unwelcome interlude in our lives and the disturbance has taken its toll.

But now we are back and it really is good, or it will be as soon as we have unpacked. In order to undertake the works required the builders had to box up all of our possessions. I have never seen anything like it. When we moved in nearly two years ago I don’t recall there being this many boxes. And I know for sure that since then I have culled my possessions and my clothes quite radically.

But on our return there were boxes everywhere, all of one uniform size and colour and mostly marked with the appropriate destination for their contents. Sadly the word bedroom did not help me in my quest to find bedlinen as the bedroom boxes also contained all of our clothes and sundry bedroom-related items. It was in box eight that I finally found the duvet, box nine the pillows and box ten some linen, except for pillowslips, which we still have to find.

“The younger ones don’t know who Julie Andrews is – or what a crucifix is for that matter”

On day one I simply managed to re-assemble the complex Ladderax shelving, a juggling act for two people and nigh on impossible as a solo performance, and I finally achieved a bed and linen that we could sleep in. The shelving went up pretty easily but I have moved it into a new configuration, an act I thought was good at the time but now I cannot get everything back where it is meant to live.

Day two I was busy doing a bus tour so any work in the home was impossible. On day three I started to unpack boxes and tried to re-invent our home.

It was rather like doing a jigsaw with a missing lid. All the parts were there, although some broken, but there was no picture to follow. The complex arrangement of small pictures that fills our hall is now just a jumble. The pins are all there but how am I supposed to work out which frame goes on which pin?

In our sitting room things were easier.

The changes mean that we now have four walls against which we can put things, so I have moved stuff around and I think, for now, it looks better. The pictures as a consequence have all had a bit of a move around too which is refreshing. Now when you walk in, my Jimmy Cauty print of Julie Andrews on a crucifix is now the first thing you see. I found it at Ink_d Gallery and love it, even though it does raise a few eyebrows from older visitors (the younger ones don’t know who Julie Andrews is – or what a crucifix is for that matter).

There have been casualties too, a few breakages and tears but nothing too serious. Having the in-laws over for help paid off too. Mrs R made a superb job of the kitchen and Mr R Snr was invaluable when it came to lugging stuff around.
By mid morning we were making stirling progress when suddenly…

Well, they say bad things come in threes and the third struck just then. Our upstairs neighbour had a bath and having finished, pulled the plug. Unfortunately the water came cascading through to our shiny new flat, running down the bedroom wall, across a light fitting and onto the new carpet. We wanted to cry, really. As if the chaos and dust was not enough, we now had water to deal with.

I charged upstairs and alerted the neighbour, throwing the, no pitching the ball firmly into his court. I then went back downstairs, gathered the troops and marched them over to Busby & Wilds, our new local gastro pub, where we had an excellent Sunday roast and four delicious puds.

I even fortified myself with a large glass of red before returning and tackling another box.

This I did with renewed fervour and a reckless edge, discarding things with gay abandon. As the box emptied, the ‘save’ pile was much smaller than the ‘bin’ pile and I revelled in the idea of a major cull. By the end of the day there were bin bags full of stuff, stuff that I no longer wanted, stuff that I could not imagine anyone else wanting either. The place is still full of things, but I feel like I had a major breakthrough. I just hope that in years to come I don’t regret having been too radical in my actions.