here's the recipe.
1. take all, well, nearly all (as many as will fit in a van) of your worldly goods...
(foto taken yesterday evening by jayne, before the hardest of the "see you soons", which had me crying all the way to the border...)
2. open apartment. make inventory of,
a) furniture provided (marvel at ugliness of lounge furniture. make mental note to find throws and cushions at nearest opportunity)
b) kitchenware provided by landlord that one plans to put away in a box for duration of lease,ie. every single bit of it (while saying, i wouldn't eat off/drink out of/cook with that if you effing well paid me. )
c) miscellaneous crap found in cupboards
d) damage, broken things.
3. stir in insulting names for the previous tenants, who clearly had better things to do than clean. think up further insulting names for the supposedly professional cleaner who supposedly cleaned flat after aforementioned unhygennic messy scumbags vacated premises.
optional: curse previous tenants for removing lightbulbs.
4. take fotos for jayne et al to see.
the main bathroom:
"jayne's room" aka the guest room:
as above, with shower room:
i could lie and say i'm being a generous host by letting my jayne and any other guests have the en-suite, but in truth
i'm taking the 2nd and only fractionally smaller room, because,
a. i may end up getting a flatmate to split the rent, and if they have the en suite, i get to have the main bathroom, with BATH, for me.
b. i didn't fancy sleeping between "his 'n' hers" wardrobes.
kitchen (taken from dining area) containing miscellaneous shite provided by landlord/former scumerators:
lounge, looking toward dining area/kitchen:
5. add all ingredients from van to flat.
6. empty boxes
7. don rubber gloves and proceed to scrub, hoover, wash, polish, wipe. (may take several days.)
8. arrange to suit taste.
i'm currently at no 6 and have emptied 13 & 1/2 boxes already.
more pics to follow once it's all out of the oven...
a hard lesson...
last night i talked to my bro on skype, (birth watch update: still no sign of baby no.2 but all is well.) my 25 month old niece was looking through the banisters that lead from den up to kitchen and displaying her counting skills. on reaching 12, which impressed me no end, she disappeared screen left up the steps and then promptly came tumbling back into view head over heels on hard wood in a downward trajectory and exited screen right, where she came to a sudden halt on the tile floor at the bottom of the stairs. needless to say, my visit was cut short to the sound of tears, although i don't believe any lasting damage occurred. but if she grows up disliking maths, we know why. counting and keeping balance are big jobs when you're small.
sunday update: still no baby no.2. and sequoia's only damage is a small bruise on her foot. my brother checked that she can still count to 14. she can. he took this to be a good sign.
it never ceases to amaze me that the human body, especially the skeleton, evolved in such a way that at the very time when we are learning to master control of its movement, is capable of surviving these "accidents" relatively unscathed. that said, i'm not sure i want another skype visit involving quite such dramatic live streaming. next time, i want to see my neice on a chair. the use of duct tape is optional.