The move: part 1

There's a gap in the building works - I have electricity and am (at long last) updating my blog.

Not that I've been without electricity entirely this last two weeks, though at times it has felt that way. To reassure anyone who worried when the man on the Today programme yesterday spoke about the risk of solar flares, and how one big one could destroy the world's electronic system entirely (apparently we'll have about 20 minutes warning - barely enough time to back-up!), it is possible to survive without most of what we consider 'normal'.

It's just not necessarily pleasant.

My last blog post was a gripe about deadlines. Or their ability to be missed. Our builders are still missing them, into their eighth week of overrun. Since I last wrote we have actually moved in (given the rental contract was up there was little choice!) but our belongings remain, for the most part, in boxes. Today I just had decorators; yesterday joiners and electricians; but someone to fix the mess following the plumbing leak would be useful (I'd like to use the toilet!)

All this industry for a house that was, supposedly, perfect and ready for us to move into two weeks ago. Having moved a few bits and pieces in that previous Friday we were optimistic. We popped in over the weekend a couple of times, being assured that the stained and varnished floor would be dry before we move in. I only got a little irate about finding a man kneeling on the floor with an electric saw, slicing lengths of wood, scattering sawdust everywhere, just next to my sofa. My request for a dustsheet to cover it had fallen on deaf ears.

It is never fun, moving house. I should know: we calculated that in 13 years of marriage we have moved 11 times. Too often, I say. But this is our 'forever house' - I hope - so the weekend of packing boxes, trying to keep out only the most important things, labelling everything: yes, it will all be worth it, I kept telling myself. I organised an army of girls to help me with the move, given that the builders' delay meant my husband was back at work and unable to contribute during the day. They were great, helping to finish packing at one end and unpack at the other.

At least, that was the plan. Then Tuesday happened.