Sitting on the floor of my loungeroom, grateful for my netbook and not-cheap mobile wireless broadband connection, surrounded by plastic wrapped lounge chairs, boxes of books and burly men – one of whom has to work on his birthday – occasionally yelling, And what about this, this going as they hold up party poppers, batteries and a can of artichoke hearts.
The sounds are paper being bunched, tape being pulled from its roll and the banter of people who can never stand still. They have, all of them, joked about the garret, but only one of them has ventured up the stairs. It’s not that bad, I have tried to tell them, it’s only got what we could carry up.
We decamped to my aunt and uncle’s house last night. We were served ice cold beer, lightly battered garfish fillets and gorgeously thick chips. Mine, at ten thirty after I came home from last night’s performance because I’m always too nervous to eat before I leave. This morning, our boys were given blankets to wrap around themselves as they indulged in the rare treat of morning cartoons.
They need the blankets, because autumn has arrived. It is in everything. The light, the temperature and the mood. Autumn helps us all to relax, don’t you think?
And autumn makes it hard to leave. Is it not the most glorious time of the year? Sitting yesterday on a step in our backyard, my back to the sun, chatting to a friend on the phone, I could only think, Why would we leave? If we were not moving, we would now be planning our Easter trip to Kangaroo Island and these days, the boys and I might stay on a few extra weeks.
Moving should involve a bit of melancholy. There’s no point leaving if it doesn’t remind us of what we leave behind. But being away has been good. I have been able to sit still, to clear my mind, to think new things, to think old things new ways.
Better go. The more they clear things out, the more I realise this floor could do with a wash.
PS There’s not so much liveblogging here, is there? Sorry bout that