Ah, Saturday

It was so tense yesterday afternoon: if contracts on the houses weren't exchanged by 3.30 we'd have to wait  until Monday.
Unbearable!
The central heating broke down.
At 3.25 my solicitor called to tell me it had been done.
I hung up, burst into tears and then phoned the removal company as soon as I'd composed myself again.

I sat yesterday evening, dazed, with the fan heater purring away and the cats trying unsuccessfully to find the warm bit in the room.
Poirot solved mysteries silently in the background; Nadya called and told me she'd recorded a Russian dub song with Adrian Sherwood.
I can't wait to hear that! Nadya's music has an early Bowie/early Kinks sound with a very gritty grip on lyrics.

Just before midnight I got a text from Sherika, the songwriter who has entered the song competition. She got through to the final, and I'm absolutely delighted. Wouldn't it be nice if she won?

So, Saturday.

I wait for the plumber, the delivery of boxes to pack in, the ex-husband who hasn't told me what time he's coming to pick up the rest of his stuff.
I will roll up the rugs in a sheet later, and I've already vacuumed Offsprog One's room. She's coming to take more stuff tomorrow morning, which she will probably lose out of a hole in her bag, like her phone yesterday and her keys a month ago. Different bags, different holes.
I have suggested that she gets a bag without holes in it.

The washing machine is on its second wash of the morning before it gets taken away, the clothes dryer is stuck at £32 on eBay but has to go for more if I'm to get a decent washer/dryer, and this is a very domestic post indeed!

Oddly, although I woke at 4 a.m. and couldn't get back to sleep again, the relief is making me contented. There have been two years of tension, more than 50 people shown round the house, countless housework-blighted Fridays and a fear of being stuck here forever.
This is a beautiful, beautiful house, with stained glass and old fireplaces, but it has always felt like someone else's house.
Often when I've been alone here I have felt like the real owners have popped out for an hour and left me to look after it, and they'll be back soon and I'll be on my way.

Will I feel like I belong in the tiny new house?
I hope so, for a while at least.