Wednesday, April 3, 2013



Fundamentally, I’m a homebody who likes to potter around a familiar space. What is more, being a writer, I normally work from home. That combination means that I find moving particularly disruptive.

Traumatic? That has certainly been the case in the past on a few occasions—but I wouldn’t go that far on this occasion. Firstly, I wanted to move, secondly some wonderful people helped me, and thirdly I am very happy in my new location.

That said, although my desk is in place, and I have internet access, most of my files are still in boxes so I don’t have a work flow going. How long will it take to get organized? Another week to ten days is my best guess—with other work going on concurrently—but I don’t really know. What I can say is that I’ll feel a lot better when I know where things are. Currently, I’m still hunting through boxes—albeit those boxes are labeled, which helps greatly. What is more, I have used file boxes with removable lids instead of traditional moving boxes. Highly recommended because they are easy to handle, stack well, and one can whip off the lid to check the contents.

This move has been made vastly more pleasant by the fact I have been both helped by, and have subsequently met, some rather wonderful people. It makes me wonder why this great country is in the state it is in when there is such decency at grass roots level.

Speaking of wonderful people, my amazing sister, Lucy, has dug up another photo of my much loved step-father, Alfred Lyons. He really was a singularly fine-looking man—and I owe him more than I can say.

He also had a wicked sense of humor and would have thoroughly enjoyed my epic feat of locking myself out on April 1. I can practically hear him laugh.

I miss the man. 


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