What started as a carefully planned operation fell at the first hurdle. We got up bright and early headed on down the motorway to Emma’s old house only to get stuck on the A404 for far too long before we managed to get off onto a back road. The Hart’s removals lorry which was somewhere behind didn’t fair too well and took him an hour and a half to reach us by which time Mrs Cooke had already given us a coffee and shown us Mr Cooke’s bio diesel plant in the old cow shed.

Packing up Emma’s didn’t take long as it was already boxed but when we came to leave we discovered too late that we couldn’t get back round the motorway junction because of the same overturned lorry as earlier that had previously delayed us and we had to make our way home, in convoy, via a slightly roundabout route through Slough [sl-uff], getting back to my ‘ickle ‘ouse about lunch time.

In the afternoon our removal man came back to the house and started packing up my house and boy was he quick – I put a screwdriver down on the table for a moment and the next thing I knew it was at the bottom of a box – but boy did he chat a lot. Emma escaped the mayhem for a while to go and visit William at the vets, and by the time the evening came we were all shattered and only most of the ground floor packed.

Dinner was courtesy of the Market Square Fish Bar – and we brought it home and sat amongst boxes and watched tele for having an early night – a last night for me in my house. Tomorrow is going to be another busy day.