Settling In

Internet again buzzes through our house, and with it a chance to write. Where to start with the recap? We’ve moved in, gotten boys into schools, celebrated birthdays, learned about living in and getting about London. I’m not yet pursuing research or meeting people, but I can feel it, I’m getting closer.

The majority of my time the last three weeks (other than housework and raising children) disappeared into moving into our new place and getting it suitable for habitation. The week prior to our move was intensely stressful. When would the rental company get the contract to us? Could we get the money wired from the U.S. bank in time for the contract signing? When we moved in, what furniture would we have? How long would we be able to stay in our temporary flat in the City — would we have to check out the same morning that the movers came to pick up our boxes? When could we go shopping for the little things like sheets that we hadn’t needed in the temporary flat but would need in our unfurnished permanent one? Because the relocation company canceled our temporary flat before resolving the question of whether we’d get into our permanent place on schedule, I was wryly contemplating whether my family would be made homeless in a foreign country by the idiocy of the people who were supposed to be making our move easier.

In the end, not only did all this resolve satisfactorily, but we had a generous dash of good fortune: the weekend prior to our move, one of Tom’s colleagues bought a flat in which the previous owner had abandoned five beds, a couch, and four tall narrow wardrobes. They are hand-me-down junk, but they work. We all have beds (so what if they creak a little?) though we’ll get rid of most of them once our furniture arrives from the U.S. (Expect to wait another 2-3 weeks for that.) Same for the couch — it will do for the moment.

The wardrobes will be living room shelves, because once that sea shipment arrives we will have a house FULL of stuff and we’ll need storage. This irritates Tom, who was looking forward to a year of living minimally. But because we packed the Durham house with the intention of leaving the contents in storage, we did not worry overmuch about how the packers labeled things haphazardly. The box labeled “clothes” really had clothes in the first third, and then towels and then blankets, but it didn’t really matter: I knew which room to set the box into before opening, and I’d sort it all back out in a year. Or so I thought. Now because of the vague labeling we will have a large number of items shipped over that are of absolutely no use to us: electronics that will not work on the UK power grid, scrap fabric that is not worth the effort of hauling around (and yet to toss it pains me too much…I winnowed my fabric stash quite well before the move but to toss more…I’m not ready yet), books that we’re unlikely to open, clothes that won’t fit any of our sizes during the coming year, tons of photos and art we can’t hang (no nails in these walls unless we want to patch and paint when we leave!), shower curtains that we don’t need because these showers have doors…unwanted STUFF.

But at the moment it feels as if we are rattling around in here, as if the place is way too large for us.

We acquired more necessities via our SCA connections: we have on loan or for keeps many of the items it takes to outfit a kitchen, such a stock pot and frying pan and ladle, and enough beer glasses to make me laugh, since no one here drinks the stuff. I could buy these things, but all of our own cooking utensils will arrive soon…and I’d hate to spend all that money for one month or so of use. I am deeply grateful to the community mindset that the SCA inspires, the collegiality that motivates someone to offer their personal (spare) belongings to someone else that they have met two times just because she put out a request over an email list. I realize that other hobby communities are also supportive like this, and yet…the SCA seems special.

The day after our move the entire family trundled up north a bit to IKEA, where we bought plates and silverware (for about the same price, or less, than London thrift stores) and bedding and small lamps and a heap of other small but necessary items. We left with everyone but Weyland well laden. I returned today, just myself with Weyland on my back, and spent much more to buy the furniture items that we’d determined were worth the money, but which we did not own. Odds and ends like laundry bins (we have one built into the Durham house), lights for the living room, door mats, trash cans, book bags, and extension cords all went into my basket. Then there were the larger things: we gave away our bed before we moved (we wanted a smaller one), we are buying a dining table rather than waiting 3 more weeks for one (I am sick of sitting on the floor to eat!), we need a TV table (we have a built in shelf for it in Durham) and a computer chair for Garrett’s room.

With walking the kids to school, walking to the tube, walking from the station to IKEA, trekking all through the store (with loops back to bathrooms whenever needed), racing home, picking up the kids from school (late, but they forgave me easily) and returning, I walked more than 20,000 steps, twice my daily goal. I’m TIRED.