At the weekend the attic is emptied. Firstly we are up at the crack of dawn as Mr and Mrs Safaie are flying back to Bangkok at 10am and have to leave at 6am. After this I go back to bed for a while having had a dose of Kadcyla the day before and feeling tired and a bit achey. Next it’s off to the vet with Dog who needs his claws clipping. The vet is always known as Dr Bum as usually the first thing he or she does is stick a thermometer up the bottom of whichever animal we have taken along. In case you are wondering, we do not refer to the vet as Dr Bum in the surgery. Dog is never keen on visiting Dr Bum and usually stands looking out of the window, his tail between his legs, plotting ways to escape as soon as the door is opened. By mistake the vet nurse charges me twice the going rate and now I have to go back to have the excess refunded on my card.
Once we get home, the house is thrown into a dusty, dirty turmoil of Things Being Brought Down From The Attic. Stuff that has lingered there for years and years gets to see the light of day. The breakfast room is piled high, courtesy of Mr Mason jnr, Ms Atherton and Mr Carter, all roped in to help with this most ghastly of exercises. A lot of things go to charity shops, a lot go to the tip and there still seems to be a neverending pile of stuff. We discover a lot of it belongs to Mrs Safaie from various times she has been living abroad. She hasn’t really had a proper home in the UK for several years now. I apologise if I make her sound like a dog. We are in the awkward position of having things to pack but no proper removal boxes because we haven’t exchanged contracts yet so can’t book the removal firm. We are also waiting to hear from our vendors as to whether they will reduce the price a little due to the amount of work which needs doing. So every day we throw a few more things into either a charity shop pile or a rubbish pile. It’s going down but it’s hard work.
This month’s Kadcyla treatment has gone better. Although I have headaches and pain in my neck, arm and shoulder, it is less than the last cycle which is really encouraging. I forget each time how tiring the treatment can be and wonder why I want to sit on the sofa and snooze in the afternoon. In my head I am normal and healthy; it’s just my body which doesn’t know this. Dog comes in for an accidental sloosh of Oramorph. Once the liquid gets so far down the bottle, it can be difficult to syringe out. I am sitting fiddling with it and, taking the syringe out of the bottle, press the top. A gloop of Oramorph shoots across the room and lands on Dog who looks most surprised. Luckily it is a tiny amount and he shows not the slightest interest in licking it, thus avoiding a lifetime of morphine addiction.
This week is also Orange Week. Through a local Facebook page, we have ordered 20kg organic blood oranges from Sicily. Before you cry What Ho! at the amount, they are not all for us. We had a delivery of navel oranges before Christmas and it made me realise just how old some of the oranges in the shops must be. The amount of juice which comes out of these oranges is amazing and the taste is phenomenal. I am motoring through them at an immense rate which is probably why I didn’t pick up the heavy cold Mrs Safaie came to us with last week. Hurrah for oranges and Vitamin C!
Apart from the endless sorting out and throwing away, it’s quite a quiet time, really. We are not socialising (no time or energy) and just have our heads down to complete work projects and tax returns on time. We do actually have a couple of social engagements in the diary, one of them a send-off lunch party hosted by our lovely friend Ms De Roeck. I know we can’t move such a distance without saying goodbye to people so we will undoubtedly do more of this once packing has commenced. On the subject of packing, we have had some fabulous offers from friends to come and help which has cheered me up enormously. I imagine we will get a bit of a party atmosphere going although I know some people (Ms Marsden springs to mind) have offered just for the opportunity to rifle through my drawers. Oo er missus!