The organic supermarket doesn't sell taramasalata. In fact, they haven't even heard of those curious pink fish-eggs, which we so liberally smear onto crackers and things at home.
Waking up this morning was immensely confusing. I had, once again, been consumed by the whale which is my air-bed; there was a curious odour; 'Hey SiL', came the American twang of my brother-in-law as I realised he was changing the baby on the changing table which lived in my 'bedroom'. At that moment, the dog burst in, as did my mother, waving a cup of tea at me and suggesting that I should perhaps get up as the room would soon be needed for storage whilst the removal men did their thing.
The dog is very protective and not likely to warm to strangers in the house, hence keeping him in my room whilst the removal men came. My brother-in-law sensibly sought refuge at work, whilst the rest of us toiled to get everything packed up and into the other house, which mercifully, is a 5-minute drive away; this whole operation would be worse if it was the other side of the country, as this is quite a big country.
Four orange-clad removal men appeared on time, variously speaking American and Spanish. One of them was called 'Duke'; another had spectacular tattoos on his hairy arms. They dutifully wrapped everything in huge blankets, then copious amounts of clingfilm, before bundling round to the new house and unloading it all. I unloaded the car, whilst my sister co-ordinated the operation to put all the large furniture into the right rooms. I have forgotten where everything was put, apart from the memory foam mattress.
Moving house - it's something to do, I suppose.
There was considerable distress caused by the teapot being lost in transit. I managed to find the tea-cosy, which is shaped like a cat; it taunted me with its arrogant expression. The teapot has since materialised and all is well.
The shower here has to be better than the one in the old house. I've had a better shower in a brothel in Burkina Faso. (I hasten to add that I didn't know it was a brothel until the next day; to the naive 19-year-old traveller, it was just a cheap hotel)
Goodnight all.
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