There’s not much time today to talk about how grand a time we had in Yorkshire. Grand though it was, it turned out to be short, as we’ve had to race home through the night, a day early.
We have to pack our entire flat up by Friday lunchtime.
At least, we think we do. Things change so fast with the house situation. Our buyers have a mortgage offer that can’t be extended, and that has led to this extraordinary deadline, and yes, an unsettling adventure. Unsettling because our house is not ready, and we have no idea where we’ll even be living for the next few weeks.
I watched the motorway flash by. Red cats-eyes on the hard shoulder, green on the central reservation. White lines flicked under the car as we drove into the night. It seemed to me as though the blackness of what was ahead was a metaphor for our own uncertainty - deep and brooding, and currently unknowable.
Will we get it done? It will be tough. Where will we go? We don’t know. What will these next few manic days be like? We can barely imagine.
Anyway. There is a lot to do, and who knows, this crazy machinery might push and swing us in yet another direction, perhaps even before the day is out! Nevertheless, the plan today, and we really ought to be thinking hours not days now, is to do our best to get moving. I am daunted, unsettled, uncomfortable, terrified even. But. I am not alone.
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