In our wisdom (not! ) last August we packed up everything from our home in Galway to make this move. I mean everything. There were even logs in the log basket. Much remained unopened, predominantly books. Boxes and boxes of them and at that I have given scores of them to local charity shops.
But there are many, however, I cannot part with. Today, I again found myself with tape and boxes, shifting and lifting and moving. The removal truck now makes its way from Oxfordshire to Galway with our surplus to requirements. No room at the inn. The double bed where the children were conceived is gone back too. The Small Man relegated to a single bed. I should have got them to take the Christmas tree as well (still in the back garden ).
I can now make my way to the tumble dryer in said garage without the bicycle pedals cutting the shins of me each time. The woman across the road from us lives in her garage. Always, her derriere high in the air, head in the freezer. I saw her face for the first time today when she complained about the removal truck. Perhaps she might fall in and keep her husband company. No one really gives you any advice before you move. Hindsight is mighty. Makes you wonder about what we use, what we need, how much accoutrements we accumulate.
I now think my objective in life should be to get rid of all my possessions over the coming years, buy a van and let the rest of the world go by (oh and invest in a Kindle ). Life would be much simpler. No? I should adapt the minimalist Ryanair ‘Just the shirt on your back’ attitude, less stressful. Flying home last Thursday morning the nice lady checked my bag with her big cereal box. She grimaced, I grinned.
I’ve come to love that Dublin Galway motorway but in one direction only. Like a child on Christmas Eve I bombed it home, bursting to see them all. ‘Are ya settled now?’ , this question I cannot answer. We used to live in Dublin and Co Kildare, for a good few years, before all the by-passes.
Each Sunday evening our heads would hang low, heading back east in the aul Ford Fiesta. As I walked the prom Sunday morning, that gloomy feeling was back again but more intense. I used to relish approaching the ‘Departures’ sign in the airport. Not anymore. And I know I’m just across the water. I can come over and back with relative ease.
Still, it’s a Galway thing. There are many who came to Galway to visit or work, and never left, including the man I married. Chatting to a nice lady in college on Friday I discovered she lives in Dubai. I asked her, what brought her to Dubai, ‘Bloody husband’ she said. She asked me what brought me to England, ‘Bloody husband’ I retorted. Enough said.
