Over the last month we have hauled out the last four boxes that hadn’t been unpacked since our move. They were all big boxes used to transport printers and photocopy machines between countries and, due largely to my Packing Plan of 2010 aka As the Mood Took Me (more below) we uncovered many semi-forgotten, and obviously not essential, belongings.
At the time clothes were shuttled across town on the back seat of the car. No need to pack most of those. So too curtains and other things we needed more or less immediately. However
We own tons of books. Not being relocation novices, they were packed in a single layer at the bottom of most boxes. Lugging full boxes of books opens endless opportunities for cartoonists and chiropractors. Not for those who don’t wish to walk funny for the rest of their natural lives. Laughing at myself comes quite easily but not when I’m in pain.
The actual contents of whichever room I was in at the time comprised the middle layer, fragile items packed between lengths of material from my Sewing Intentions and, when these ran out, various items of lesser-spotted clothing. Finally robust but lightweight articles topped off the contents. The kind of things for which “distings” was coined.
I’ve always considered the best part of unpacking to be the unfurling of unknown newspaper-clad shapes. We’ve done plenty of that in recent weeks, uncovering vases my grandad had crafted out of brass shell casings during WWII, numerous kitchen paraphenalia and lots of semi-forgotten hobby equipment. The ‘wrapping’ also yielded two dresses I had given up on finding. Still haven’t found the blowdrier so will stick with the wash ‘n go haircuts.
The only bad news is that one box that had been pushed into a back corner and reloaded full of books, therefore unmoved in four years, opened to reveal that over half of them had absorbed damp through one of the walls and have been ruined by black mould. It hadn’t yet become visible on the box and I don’t know if any/many of the books can be salvaged.
One of the other activities in which I’ve recently indulged is reclaiming the vegetable garden. Our suburb balances on a sheet of shale (do you also visualise four turtles and an elephant?) and so our vegetable ‘beds’ are made from recycled tyres. A reasonably wet summer sent weed production into overdrive and I was delighted to unpeel these usurpers in recent days to discover that we have a tyreful of rocket that has even started invading the lawn. Quite a few tomato bushes have sprung up among the parsley and I’ve spotted a fledgling brinjal plant alongside my maligned-butternut runners.
The season has changed and I hope better things lie ahead.