Monday, February 08, 2010

Going South

The sound of broken glass being shoveled into a bin is not the sound you really want to hear at the end of a house move.

Saturday saw us move from the North (well, Knutsford... "posh North") to the South (where they're all posh aren't they?). All seemed to be going well, right up to the point where I pulled out one of the bookcases that half a second later I remembered was propping up seven or eight framed pictures. It was the huge great crash of glass splintering that reminded me of this fact.

As it turned out, it sounded worse than it was. It was the glass in only two of the pictures that had smashed. I'm learning to always look for the positives.


Tom Ruffles said...

So which part of the South did you end up in Matt?

Spiritual Junkie said...

Oxfordshire. So not deep South, but far enough!

Anonymous said...

I live in Oxfordshire & I fancy the pants of you Matthew.

I usually meet my meet my men in Tesco toilets. Maybe we could meet up when you're settled.

All the best.


Tom Ruffles said...

You know, I am so innocent, I have only just realised what 'going south' actually means!

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