How Jonah felt

I awoke to find that unfortunately, I had been swallowed by a whale.  I was engulfed by the soft blue innards, submerged beneath layers of whale flab.  Breathing was difficult.  My surroundings were soft, dark, but curiously non-threatening.  This is how Jonah felt, I thought to myself.

After some minutes, I realised that the trusty air-bed, which has been my place of slumber since I arrived, had in fact, partly deflated, causing the sheet to ping off and consume me within, beneath a blanket, a duvet and another layer.

It was a relief to know that I was not inside a whale.  I was about to say something about the people of Lilliput, but on reflection, I mean Niniveh.  The two are easily confused in my brain, which has been addled by this house-moving malarky; making silly noises at the baby; spending a disproportionate amount of time in a wacky organic cafe; making all sorts of new friends I will never see again, just because I am wielding a baby; singing to the baby, (to the tune of 'Jubilate' - the options are endless - 'bounce the baby...', 'feed the baby...', 'walk the baby...' etc.).

The great house move is well-underway.  The new house is about fifteen times the size of the house in which I live.  We spent the day variously filling up the car at this house; then unloading at the other house; cleaning things; Mum catastrophising about kitchen equipment; me wheeling the baby around and making friends locally; and Sage the dog looking on, as if he was subconsciously co-ordinating the operation.

The WiFi has been switched off, so I am using some clumsy neighbour's WiFi.  

What has 12 legs, 3 wheels and a combined age of 178? Myself, my parents, the baby in the 'stroller' and the dog, going to the organic cafe to buy a chicken.  Mum wanted to cook chicken casserole, but we were missing the critical ingredient - chicken.  The decision as to where to buy the chicken rested on how happy we wanted the chicken to have been whilst it was of this world.  Chickens which are for sale in organic cafes were formally happy, free to travel wherever they wanted; they lived in extravagant palaces and ate Caviar; they had David Lloyd membership and enjoy regular gym sessions with personal trainers.  They also had music lessons.  Chickens which are for sale in regular supermarkets were formerly headless mutants brought up on a diet of MacDonalds, which is awkward when you don't have a head.  

Mum spent time searching for the former type of chicken in the organic cafe, whilst Dad, myself, the baby and the dog, chilled out in the cafe; this is becoming a pleasantly recurring theme.

The baby and I enjoyed two more walks later in the day, including one to a nearby swing park where we made friends with a woman whose husband is from Hertfordshire.  Ah, Hertfordshire, 'The County of Opportunity', I remember the sign boasting.  Or you could move here.

Behold - the removal men are due in less than 12 hours.  This is my final night in this house, ever.  Tomorrow I shall blog about the joys of the actual move.  The new house is a bit nearer to the organic cafe; no doubt there will be more adventures there.

I hope you're enjoying my musings; I have it on good authority that at least 2 people are reading this blog, so thanks if you're one of them.

Happy holidays team.