Moving 3.....

By Sunday, the flat actually resembled somewhere to live (except the second bedroom, which even now still resembles a war zone). We had an enormous sofa and footstool (courtesy of Ebay - £89. Total bargain as from Ikea more like £550) and a TV that rivals a cinema screen (first thing the Boyfriend bought - even before a bed).

The kitchen looks lovely. Our bedroom is beautiful (bed is AMAZING - Warren Evans bespoke made. Inexpensive, incredibly comfortable and the staff were truly wonderful) chest of drawers and wardrobe courtesy of my parents.

The garden is in a similar state to the second bedroom. But it's November and therefore dark early (can't see the mess) and cold (don't want to be outside).

Pictures following (once we have found the camera, and also the computer).

We rewarded ourselves with a yummy roast with good friends in our (new!) local. Roast beef with all the trimmings, some good wine, and a lunch that turned into an afternoon, turned into an evening with takeaway pizza, and suddenly it was 11pm and our friends had to leave, and we went to bed. In our amazing bed.

Moving 2....

So I went into work. And obviously could not concentrate. And also had an incredibly busy day. It was not good, and by midday I could barely contain myself, and practically ran to Waterloo to get on the train to MY NEW HOME!!!

Seven minutes later and I was at Queenstown Road. 6minutes later I was outside the new flat. The Boyfriend was nowhere to be seen, and for some reason there was an Estonian lady industrially cleaning the kitchen. I then realised the the whole flat was distinctly dusty, grubby, and definitely in need of a good clean.

I rang the boy, and waited outside. I then heard what sounded like an army truck, turned, and saw the Boyfriend driving something enormous. Apparently the van he hired looked a little small, so he had upgraded. To something not dissimilar to a small lorry. It turned out to be a good decision as all my stuff filled it to bursting. And he had left some bits behind.

We unloaded, but had to leave everything in the second bedroom as nothing had been cleaned. And then jumped back in the van and went to my parents. And then to the Boyfriend's to get the rest of his stuff.

By the evening we were exhausted. And hungry. And grubby. And tired. The Boyfriend was determined to bring his hideous leather armchair (think Chandler and Joey's from Friends) into the house before we went out for dinner. Sadly the damn thing was too wide to get through the gate. So we lifted it (all billion kilos of it). And then it was too wide to get through the front door. Did this put him off? No.

After nearly an hour (yes an HOUR) I suggested it might have to go back. The response was a little frosty. So on we went.

We eventually got it in by putting it in the recline position and literally dragging it through the house. It is a little dusty, has a little gloss paint on it and several small rips, but the monstrosity is now happily planted in the second bedroom. Oh joy.

Moving 1.....

Packing up my stuff and leaving the girls was sad. And also rather impressive. I seemed to have accumulated so much extra stuff in the few years since uni that I not only filled every single box/suitcase/bag for life in the house, but when piled up, my belongings took over my room, the kitchen, and the living room (including under and on the table - also mine, and on all the sofas).

I made little fairy cakes, spelling out "I'll miss you" in tiny smarties. Sadly the Boyfriend ate three not realising they actually spelt anything, so it then read 'll iss yu. Not quite the same.

I finished packing at approximately 11.20pm. I then had to be up for work at 3.20am. And realised I had packed my bedding, pillows and pyjamas. So slept in my clothes with a towel for a pillow and a throw that could definitely have done with a wash.

Oh the excitement for tomorrow!