A moving day

We wake up early, at six thirty, to another cold blustery day and breakfast on the last of the sausages and bacon, mine with an egg and Norman's without. Yesterday's football has left me feeling a little stiff, but it will soon walk off. I pick the terriers up shortly after nine for our walk on the Westwood and today we are uninterrupted by rain, although darker clouds are forming to the west and the rain can be expected later. After our walk I have time to mow the lawns at Two Riggs, leaving the clippings, with their coating of feed and weed, to continue their work on the grass and weeds and then Normy and I return to Tickton, where repeat the process on the lawns there. Afterwards there is just time for a cup of tea and a sandwich and then it is time to pick up the removal van from Andrew's Van Hire. It takes twenty minutes to fill all the forms out and then I am on my way, driving a large Mercedes Sprinter, to Leslie's house. I arrive at one thirty, as promised, to find Margaret and William with Leslie's old cleaner, still working their way through the disposal of his effects. I have arranged to buy some bookcases, shelves a desk and two chairs, that will better match the furniture donated by Sarah and my friend Allan. William, who is a small man and seventy three years young, is helping me to move the furniture, which turns out to be extraordinarily heavy, particularly for two pensioners. The desk, in particular, is very solidly built and difficult to manoeuvre through the narrow doors of Leslie's bungalow, but eventually, with much perspiration, everything is loaded and we are on our way to Tickton. Unloading at the other end is more straightforward, primarily because I have decided to dismantle the desk in my garage, as iT is too wide and heavy to fit through my doors. By a quarter past four we are finished and drive back to Andrew's Van Hire to return the Mercedes and redeem the £100 that I had paid as deposit. Outside the office there is a bright red Ferrari Testarossa sports car, and William, who is a Formula One fan, chats to the owner, who starts up the V12 engine for him and tells him the car used to belong to Pete Waterman, of Aitken. Stock and Waterman fame. I drop William back at Molescroft and thank him for his help, wondering how stiff the poor old guy might be in the morning. When I return to my house, Norman is eagerly waiting for his tea, so I feed him and then put the shelves back in the book cases and restore the front room to some sort of order. I have yet to decide whether to dismantle the desk and bring it from the garage into the house, before or after my holiday, as it might take a while to loosen screws that haven't been touched for over twenty years. Eventually I decide to attempt the job, as I can always leave it for later, if I run out of time and energy. In the event, there is only one troublesome screw, and I manage to bring it into the house and put it back together by half past seven. I have placed the desk against the back wall of the lounge, with a bookcase on either side, it looks quite nice. I make dinner, take Norman for a quick walk and go to bed for ten.