Packing

Here we go again.... packing up all our worldly goods and entrusting them to some blokes with a truck. Actually last time we did this, the blokes were my husband and one of our closest Melbourne friends, and we just made a hop, skip and a jump from one inner northern suburb to the next. But this move to Tasmania involves ships and containers, just like our move to Australia from London back in November 2006. We had no furniture worth keeping back in those days so we only brought our bed with us, and some favourite chairs, but we did bring our hefty library which caused the packers to openly curse us. This time of course we have two more children, and a whole house worth of goods - oriental antiques, baskets of toys, and yes, a few more books.

Packing with three children at large is no easy feat. Endless monitoring of toilet-training twin toddlers together with ongoing requests for juice, icy poles and diluted milk to cool them down in this, frankly, unacceptable heat have to be honoured but that does mean endless interruptions and constant concerns along the lines of 'where did I leave those scissors/that tape cutter/the roll of bubblewrap'. Which is why we started early. I think I've got past the point of feeling utterly overwhelmed and am now at the stage of - well, we'll get there. We have to. The truck is booked, the ferry is booked, the new tenants for our current rental are booked. My only real concern now (apart from hoping I got all of my daughter's poo out of the sandpit) is that the bathroom tiles for the new house are shipped down from Sydney in time for the builders to instal the luxurious new volcanic limestone, claw foot bath prior to our arrival..... After three years of water restrictions I, ever the Brit, am truly gasping for a good, long soak.....