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Monday, October 05, 2009

Spit and Polish

The best thing about moving house, sorry, the only good thing about moving house is the anecdotes it generates for you, my faithful Ploggerati.

So, TheBloke (TM) was still a bit battered from his single-handed attempt to popularise Face Cricket, and we had heavy furniture that needed moving. Every time TheBloke (TM) leaned forward, he'd produce a profuse nose-bleed expressly designed a) to generate sympathy and b) to excuse himself from any further box moving. Yours truly is as physically strong as a seven year-old with rickets and Mr and Mrs Nunn had selfishly decided to go on holiday to celebrate Mr Nunn's 60th birthday. What total bastards.

This left us with one option: removal men. Or women. We are equal opportunities employers.

So, I called a few. Quotations (I will not call them "quotes") came in thick and fast. £170 seemed to be the average. I had one more guy to speak to.


"Hello - is that Terry?" Terry didn't seem an entirely likely name for someone who had answered the phone with a thick Polish accent, but who am I to judge?

"Yes. This Terry."

I explained how we needed a removal man on Saturday. "No. I not free Saturday. Sorry."

"Never mind then. Thank you." I was just about to hang up.

"I have friend though. George. George my friend. I will call him and see if he free."

"How much will George charge?" I asked.

"£60," said Terry. "If you have to go two times then it will be £120. He has trailer."

"Ah," said I, spotting the catch, "a trailer won't be big enough. And it might be raining."

"OK then," Terry compromised. "He bring van. I call you back."

True to his word, five minutes later, Terry called. "George will to come on Saturday with van for £6o. He doesn't speak good English though. So speak to me if questions."

Saturday came. George came. With his friend who was about a foot and a half tall and a foot and a half wide. I shall call him Cube Man. George takes a look at Monty Cat.

"You have good cat. Is good cat. Also, is too many stairs."

There was not much I could do about this.

TheBloke (TM) enquired if the furniture we needed moving would fit in the van. George surveyed. George pondered. George replied. "No."

I suddenly saw where this was going. We would help George and Cube Man load up their M-reg white van with all our valuables... and then we would never ever see them again. TheBloke (TM) was under strict instructions to get in the Mini and follow the van. And not to dilly-dally on the way. Off went the van with the home packed in it, TheBloke followed behind with... Sorry, slipped into some wartime songs there. Apologies.

Yet George and Cube Man managed to get all our furniture in said van, with a minimum of Polish cursing, and did indeed do it for £60, plus an extra £10 TheBloke (TM) gave them for not driving off with all our shit.

Now, does anyone know anyone you can hire to unpack all the bastard boxes once you get to your new house?

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