September 10, 2006
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I’m officially homeless. The removal men came and took away all my stuff yesterday morning and I’m now sponging off Kate and Nick. (Incidentally, the concept of someone moving home with no proper forwarding address seemed to be beyond TalkTalk. I spoke to eight different people when I rang up to tell them; they couldn’t decide whether I had to talk to the Moving Home department or the Cancellations department. And Endsleigh charged me £6 for the privilege of cancelling my contents insurance, which I had no choice over because they don’t do storage cover. *sigh*)
Anyway, there’s now a partner dealing with the vendor’s conveyancing, and she allowed my solicitor to listen to the shouting that happened between the partner and the vendor’s purchase’s solicitor (following? Oh good). Long and short – hopefully we can exchange Monday and complete by the end of the week. If we don’t there’ll be hell to pay. I refuse to trample on the goodwill of friends for much longer.
But this does mean I get to play with Tomasina. Normally I object quite strongly to cats sleeping on my bed, but now I realise this is because my cats have always been enormous beasties who want to sleep right here on my chest and stick their noses in my face every hour. Whereas a delicate little princess who curls up at the bottom of the bed is barely noticeable, and if she happens to wander in when I’m awake then a 3am cuddlefest isn’t out of the question, and she is also very happy to wake me up if I’m snoring. Which frankly provides a valuable social service and should be extended for the benefit of all my neighbours.