I think. Clare is doing it all actually.
Clare is packing things in to boxes, and labelling the items of furniture so the removals people know which rooms they are to go in. The boy is sleeping still, and I am documenting the move. I think that's just as important a task. Imagine the joy in years to come, when I can look back and see exactly what we were all doing at this time.
I've also said goodbye to more books and hoarded magazines, so long old friends.
Our fridge is still broken, it behaved for a few days but the temperature has gradually risen to fourteen degrees again. We're running the freezer down so as to defrost it and see if that helps. I don't think the Indesit service people were much help at all, I wish I had not wasted the money there.
I'm trying to think how I could be of more help to Clare, maybe designing some labels, or making some sort of plan of the new house?
Waking the boy in a few minutes, then we're going to go out, to a cafe maybe. The boy and I went out this morning while Clare had a lie in (see I am not all bad), we just about avoided the heavy rain. There was a procession along The Leas, a remembrance march, we stopped and watched them go past. The marching band were good, the cadets bringing up the rear were a bit sloppy, no sloppier than I would have been though.
The boy is unsurprisingly very cute right now. He is closer to talking every day, he says "yeah" in the right way when you ask him questions, and picks up the phone and says "Harrow?" all the time - all the time except when someone is actually on the other end of the phone, when he is absolutely silent. He's not being a comedy racist, or suggesting we go to Middlesex, I think "harrow" is a mix of something and hello. Clare got a voicemail yesterday with just background noise on it and then a "harrow?" towards the end. It had come from the boy who was playing with my phone when we went to IKEA yesterday...