Yesterday I did the second trip in a week to and from Brighton to move Offsprog Two's belongings.
I have now developed biceps that challenge Madonna's claim to be Queen of Sinews, and a bag full of dusty clothing to boot.
Offsprog Two's dust is happy to meet the plasterers' dust, I can say for certain.
The whole shebang meant four trips on the deadly M25; Thursday's journey involved a two-hour wait for animals on the road.
I was quite excited! A flock of sheep had escaped from their farm lorry, perhaps, or someone's family dog was bounding joyously amongst the juggernauts!
Alas, we were never to find out because everything had been sorted out by the time we got there. It did cross my mind that they might have been copying that train company who bumped their train into a herd of cows about two months ago. Two weeks later, Virgin Trains, who are busy cocking up the East Coast Line (first step: make all the trains smell of sewage like the ones on the West Coast Line), used the same excuse to explain a late train. Oh no, Richard B, you don't get away with a fib like that!
Here is another restaurant tip and this time with no baklava: Langlees in Brighton, who do unsurpassable all-day breakfasts that saved our exhausted lives yesterday afternoon. Yum yum.
I wish that I could bring them here to my home because I am far too tired to cook anything; my body hasn't seen so much physical activity in centuries, and those very centuries are telling me that perhaps I am getting too old to be a furniture removal lady any more.