So we finished packing, watched it all get loaded onto the removal lorry, waved goodbye and went to pick up the keys and wait for its arrival at the house. And waited. And waited. After 2 1/2 hours, just as we were beginning to wonder whether the removals men were actually an extremely well organised criminal gang intent on cornering the world market for secondhand paperbacks and odd socks by absconding with the contents of our flat, they showed up. Apparently they had spent the extra hour or so repeatedly trying to reach the new house without crossing into the Congestion Charging zone, based on the other half’s confident assertion that we weren’t in it. The driver having formed a fixed hatred for government in general and Ken Livingstone in particular was determined to try and reach us without having to cough up 8 quid so they must have circled Elephant and Castle about nine times trying every angle until they had to admit defeat and cross into the zone.
‘Trouble was,’ he said, several times, ‘the traffic was all snarled up everywhere until you got into Kennington Road, and then it was so quiet you could play football on it,’ thereby missing the point of the exercise entirely.
Apart from that small hitch, we survived. I even made it into work this morning (I had to, there’s no internet at home yet, how else would I blog?) More on the new journey in tomorrow, and don’t worry – it looks as though there will be plenty to blog about.