Today, I'm packing boxes. Tomorrow, I'll be packing boxes too. Jamie is helping with the sticky tape. Sara has caught a cold and has been up all night talking to Jamie, so she's now trying to sleep.
The shipping container arrives on Monday 14 August, and after that we're not going to see any of our belongings until the end of September.
We're not going to put anything into storage. I guess that if we could store something for three years, we wouldn't want to see it again, so why pay for the privilege.
We've given the cat to my mum and a few risquée prints to Sara's dad for safekeeping. I'm not sure how strict are the customs controls, but it's probably not right to take the chance with Sara's Frink (over-rated) or my Eric Gill (genius).
Jamie doesn't know what's going to happen. I think he now knows we're going to a place called Qatar, where it's hot, and that a lot of our furniture has gone to the council tip. I don't think he understands that Sara and the cat are going away soon. Best not to read him Goodbye Mog, lest he get the wrong idea.
Here are some photos:
Garage almost empty for the first time in two years.
Garden and shed are nearly finished.
Inside, the house is chaotic.