So here I am again…

…having left the seaside delights of Aberystwyth for the rural tranquility of Shropshire (Or, at least, where the rural tranquility of Shropshire would be but for the orange glow of Telford on the smog-laden horison).

Hoy. You would not believe the number of funny looks you get for taking a TV on a bus. I mean, honestly…

…Of course, I wouldn’t’ve had to take a TV on a bus (or on the train either) if the man who designed the Corsa hadn’t thought “Ooh, let’s make a back seat that is all in one bit and doesn’t fold down to allow three people in the car with part access to the boot,” but we can’t expect everyone to have a fervent desire not to be shoved head-first into a rusting petrol tank, now, can we?

Repeated thanks to Dan & Claire for helping with the scouring of Hafan – ignoring the several days packing prior to Saturday, and the packing of the Rev’s excuse for a half-sized car in the morning – it took as long to finish off packing, moving and cleaning out bits of the caravan as it took Ruth to get back to Colburn. In Yorkshire. 231 miles away.


Thanks also to Paul for taking Ruth & I to Little Italy on Friday night. (Which I mention mainly to remind him that we’re going to pay for him to live in Stratford for a bit this December).

Once back in Newport I spent an afternoon moving stupidly heavy toolchests. Again. I now have little burst blood vessel / stretch-mark things on the sides of my shoulders. I’m fed up with moving things.

Still, it’s all done now, except for getting back all the stuff that’s still at the Place, and which is probably going to make Operation Collaborative Cottaging marginally harder than it would otherwise have been. Sorry about that.

Uh. So, yeah. I’m back in Newport again. Just thought I’d update to let everyone know I haven’t ended up in Manchester or some such distant place by mistake.

Have fun!

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