The Move

It was remarkably quick and painless, except for the worst part of all, the driveway-goodbyes which were not painless at all. My marvellous, marvellous flatmate and I had packed up my room and dismantled the furniture (clearly I had nothing to do with this part) and the marvellous, marvellous SG and Flatmate’s Boyfriend drove the enormous truck to the tip to get rid of unwanted rubbish (and I promptly forgot to give them the TV I had been given, many months ago, and never actually turned on). I lovingly wrapped up Big Karl the wine glass, in his own special packaging and my room slowly went from this …

to this …

NB the TV …

Whilst the boys – yes, I shamelessly let this happen – wrestled the furniture down the stairs and into the truck, I completed the gender stereotype scene by going snack shopping. I bought donuts, a muffin, corn chips, käsebrötchen, laugenstangen, some sort of ham and tomato bread-twist thing and mini cabanossi – I am my mother’s daughter, over-catering is in my blood – and by the time I arrived back from the store, laden down with a, in hindsight, repulsive blend of edibles, the truck was packed and ready to go. And the goodbyes, which I really had been trying very hard not to think about, waiting to be said.

We did it bandaid style, each of us wheeling out the chestnut, ‘this isn’t goodbye it is just see you later!’ except for the direct, no nonsense north-German amongst us, who shook hands, said ‘mach’s gut’ and hopped into the drivers seat. And then we were off, me leaning out of the window of our, honestly, ridiculous truck, waving Münster’s finest avenue and finest flatmates, goodbye.

We had planned for – and I had clearly bought enough snacks for – a minimum 8 hour, cross-country drive. We made it, door to door, in six. Not a skerrick of traffic in sight. That didn’t stop us from eating all of the baked goods and half the mini cabanossi. One must not waste such deeply calorific food. In the middle of the country, we encountered something quite unbelievable, in fact something so rare, I felt compelled to take a photo of it …

Blue skies!

I actually attempted to bathe in the rays, through the windscreen, as we drove. SG even shifted in his seat and said, ‘God, it’s warm in the sun, isn’t it.’ It was 9 degrees. 29 warmer than when we were last heading to the Bavarian wilderness.

The past two days, since arriving, have been spent in hardware stores and garden centres and grocery shops, or hanging things up, or putting things back together, or boring holes in the walls, or perusing furniture stores or buying hand towels and other such new-house stuff. And at the end of both days, I have cracked out this guy …

(one of the first things to be unwrapped) poured a glass of red, sat down on the tiny-temporary-until-the-monster-couch arrives sofa and thought, ‘well now, here you are. You live here now.’ And both nights, I have gone to bed and thought to myself, ‘well now, aren’t those church bells ringing 4 times an hour, right outside your bedroom window, something to get used to.’

4 thoughts on “The Move

  1. Liv, any possibility to swap with you, just to hear those church bells again? I could have them going 24/7 if you ask me – takes me back to my childhood – sehr gemutlich indeed!

    1. Ads, absolutely! Let’s do an exchange – I can go home and hear the birds and you can come here and hear the bells! Deal?

  2. Thanks Linda, that means a lot. How is everything going in expat land? Wonderfully, I hope. And remember, if you ever want to take a trip to east Franconia, there’s a coffee and a tour guide waiting!

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