Moving To Scotland : Part One

Settle in, gentle reader, and let us tell you the tale of our quest to move all our stuff (and all of us) to Scotland!

We begin several weeks before the move, as we gathered for a farewell feast in our back garden. Hilary and Stephen’s adventure northwards was imminent, they had spent the day with a team of four movers who had loaded their stuff onto the van and all was ready for them to set off. 

We would be using the same removal company and were keen to gather information on what to expect. The biggest concern was that in the speed (and number of people) packing they had missed a couple of things, and there was a certain amount of confusion about them leaving a box in the middle of the kitchen and setting off without it. 

We adjusted our plan to leave before the movers finished, agreeing that Andy would be left behind to supervise and ensure that nothing was missed, following on a day later on the train.

We were prepared, we knew what to expect. This was the first step towards huge change, real and tangible and no longer just a pipe dream. Surely nothing could go wrong?

After a manic week of goodbyes for the children (a subject for a future blog post we think) the girls were packed up and waved off in the company of Gary, to take the train up to Edinburgh. Zoe (partly out of forward planning, partly out of guilt) had managed to get 1st class tickets, so we knew they’d arrive in style and, hopefully, with Gary’s sanity intact.

This left three adults in the London house; Sammi, Zoe and Andy, all able bodied and eager to get to grips with the move. 

And then the rains came…

The skies opened and in the space of a few hours Walthamstow received unprecedented amounts of rainfall. It fell in thick sheets that quickly went from a welcome relief to the sticky humidity to a deluge that flooded many roads, gardens and some houses.

Zoe’s lived in Walthamstow for fifteen plus years and has never seen the like. It was a stark reminder of climate change and the fact that much of our area is on a flood plain (another reason for moving to higher ground).

Our neighbours went out to sweep water towards drains or unblock them. Local Whatsapp groups began to fill up with shocking pictures of buses ploughing through deep water. People started requesting water pumps and help rescuing pets. We could do very little around our packing, except keep an eye on our increasingly waterlogged garden and hope. 

And then Sammi began to feel rather under the weather herself. The day of the move came and along with it came full blown bacterial tonsillitis, making it difficult for her to get out of bed let alone dismantle it. 

She was struggling to speak so Andy leapt into action, trying to wrangle a phone appointment with a doctor, ANY doctor. This included calling 111 (as he was recommended) and having to explain that Sammi couldn’t wait for an appointment in a week as she wouldn’t be living here in a week!

A doctor was found, a prescription obtained. All we had to do was go out and fetch the antibiotics and we could start to get Sammi back on track, or at least able to speak again. Off Andy went and back Andy came, empty handed, having tried three pharmacies, discovering that there was an area-wide shortage. Waily waily waily!

By this point two movers had arrived and were attempting to cure Sammi with jokes and home (TCP based) remedies. She tried her best but became more unwell as the day went on, having to curl up in various spots around the house, unable to communicate outside of hand signals. 

The two movers were fronted by the most Scottish man we’d ever met. named Colin. Both men were amazing, hard working and fast. It was great, except for the fact that we were expecting three to four workers. Four adults and two children generate quite a lot of stuff. This could have been down to a poor estimation on the part of the person who’d come to quote for the move, or because of staff shortages from the “pingdemic”. Either way, Colin suggested that it would be a difficult job to get us packed up on schedule.  Erk!

The movers plunged into a flurry of activity and sweat. We plunged into a flurry of activity, trying not to worry. Andy went on a series of runs to the tip. Zoe went on a noble quest to try and find the elusive antibiotics. Sammi tried to find a quiet corner to die in. 

Can we just remind you, gentle reader, that whilst the grown ups were suffering and panicking, our two young snotlings were enjoying a 1st class beverage. Sun Queen dreamily gazing out of the window at the scenic view, whilst Moon Queen tried to noisily befriend a hungover teenager who was trapped on the train with her. The little “darlings”. 

Somehow we all got through the day. Medicine had finally been found further afield, the lorry was semi-packed and we lay around in a daze, feeling slightly freaked out by our half empty house. Our thoughts moved to the next steps in the plan…

Next to leave would be Sammi, Zoe, the cats and a jungle of houseplants stuffed into the boot of the car. They would be driving from London to Edinburgh in one crazed stint (hopefully without tonsillitis induced car crashes). They planned to start early in the morning (before the movers got in). If they were lucky it would take them 8-10 hours with breaks. 

Our vets had recommended some light sedatives to feed the cats in order to make the journey less stressful for them, which seemed like a fantastic idea. All we had to do was convince the cats to eat two pills, which would surely be easy because the pills were tiny and we had watched at least a couple of YouTube videos explaining how to do it.
Piece of cake right? Riiight?

Gentle reader, a piece of cake it was not. 

What followed was an epic saga of stress and angst as we vainly tried to burrito our cats and took turns to feed them rapidly dissolving tablets, at least one of which was then vomited back up again. The cats resisted, the humans suffered, pills were spat across the room with impressive force. It did NOT go well.

Nevertheless, early the next day, confined into their kitty-prisons, P and Rocky were bundled into the car along with the jungle, a litter tray and as much coffee as possible. 

With Zoe at the helm, Sammi still struggling to remain upright, two protesting felines (and Andy’s train tickets for his journey the next day..oops) they set off, waving an emotional goodbye to 112 Hartington Road and Walthamstow.

Here with everyone but Andy (who now had no train tickets) on their way to bonnie Scotland we will leave you, tune in next time, when for surely nothing else will go wrong…