Tag Archives: House move

Hear, hear

I can barely admit it, but I sent the Resident IT Consultant to the tip with – nearly – all the audio books last week. He was reluctant, and it wasn’t because of the trip to the tip as such. It was the throwing away of books. It made him feel quite ill.

But by the time I put the boxes on the drive next to the car, my mind was made up and I felt fine. I suppose he just hadn’t got that far in his reasoning on whether or not this was an OK move.

This was yet another conundrum caused by the house move over three years ago. We are still clearing stuff, and doing well in the garage at the moment. Thank you for asking. But those boxes had to go.

No one has listened to any audio books for years. We will very soon have nothing on which to play them. Did I mention they are cassettes? Not CDs. For all we know the ribbons could have dried and withered and be completely unplayable anyway.

In a last-ditch attempt to feel better, the Resident IT Consultant phoned Oxfam. Whoever he talked to there had a hard time getting their thinking round to cassettes. And no, they don’t take them (we knew that) and could think of no one who does, but trying to be helpful suggested a competitor.

He then phoned the library, asking the same thing, i.e. does anyone anywhere have a use for cassettes? The person there found the idea of cassettes even weirder than Oxfam did.

And that’s it, really. Technology has moved so fast that what seemed perfectly normal less than twenty years ago, is now obsolete. It doesn’t matter that the books are good or how many we have or the amount of money they cost. They are no use.

So he went, and came back with an empty car. I assume the audio books are now in cassette heaven. Maybe someone could build motorways with them?

And should we want the books back most must be available in more up-to-date formats. ‘All’ it entails is spending money on the same books again, and hope that at some point technology will slow down enough for such an investment to make sense.

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The Secret Room

I know this is a luxury ‘problem,’ but the other week I discovered that Bookwitch Towers is a five bedroom house. And I feel slightly idiotic not have realised this before. Although, you could also ask why the estate agents didn’t advertise it as such. Surely the cupboard under the stairs really meant that the Dursley’s house had one more bedroom than they thought?

Our secret room isn’t quite a cupboard. It’s small (like the rest of the house), and a silly shape, but you could easily put a bed in it, and a desk or a reading chair.

Or you could, had someone not put lots of ‘junk’ in there first. And that was the trouble with the previous owners as well. They used it to store coats in, and the occasional granny.

But having emptied out all our boxroom contents to redecorate the room, I looked and saw another bedroom. And it was quite nice! Both the discovery, and the room (after it was painted).

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a freshly decorated room to re-fill with junk.

Cinnamon buns for Theresa

The things I do for Theresa Breslin! At the moment, as you may be aware, I’m in the process of having a new kitchen put in. By now I actually live in hope that it could be finished one day. Not this day, certainly, but some kind of day. This year.

A couple of years ago I was in touch with Theresa just before the Edinburgh International Book Festival, and she generously suggested buying me tea somewhere nearby. But then I felt too exhausted and cancelled all plans for Edinburgh, and there could be no tea.

To make up for what must have been a dreadful disappointment for Theresa, I mentioned we were about to relocate Bookwitch Towers to Scotland, and she must come and have coffee and cinnamon buns at my – new – place. ‘Soon.’

Yeah, right. It takes a while to move, and once you have moved you need to unpack. While my ‘new’ kitchen wasn’t perfect, it could have assisted me in the baking of cinnamon buns. But I had no time. And then the oven died, and there could be no baking. Instead there were hasty plans for a new kitchen a little sooner than intended.

So that’s where we are now. Almost at the point where cinnamon buns could be planned, and made. I bet Theresa’s holding her breath…

Yes, we have no kitchen today

Or tomorrow. Possibly some sort of kitchen next week. Maybe.

But that’s beside the point. It will be like childbirth, I suspect. Horrible while it lasts, but nice enough once you’ve got what you wanted. (What’s the kitchen equivalent to a baby who vomits down your back for six months?)

The non-kitchen

Times have changed in 27 years. While the bill at Ikea came to roughly the same amount this time and then (yes, that’s seriously weird), unlike last time we made a new kitchen we have disposed of the old one rather differently. Back then we didn’t even have to throw away the higgledy piggledy bits of worktop, as one of the people who paid money for our cast-offs, happily took the debris off our hands.

This time we broke all the cupboards into bits and chucked them into a skip, and that’s that. I am the first person to go the recycling way, but I can’t see anyone wanting what we had.

And the money we made proved to be a problem. I spent it on a much needed break for us in The Lake District. The Resident IT Consultant bought our very first video player. Perhaps we ought to have discussed the spending before spending…

I’m finding the whole kitchen thing more distracting than I expected. I’ve read a little. Panicked over unpaid tax, and water in places it has no business to be. But basically I won’t be back to normal – whatever that is – until we’ve come out the other end.

Journey to the River Sea

When I came upon the audiobook of Eva Ibbotson’s Journey to the River Sea, as I was unpacking the children’s books a few weeks ago, I looked around, wondering where the ‘real’ book was. And then it hit me; I didn’t actually own a copy. I had borrowed it from the library to read (you can tell this was a long time ago, can’t you?), and returned it when I was done.

But I did buy the audiobook, because I thought it was such a marvellous story that Daughter might want to read it. This was when she was still a reluctant reader, while fully enjoying audio books. And Son was in full audiobook mode as well, although he did read too. We had a few years during which we as a family consumed an awful lot of cassette books, including the odd chewed-up tape. I remember this, as Eva Ibbotson’s book was one that got entangled, much to my horror. (Luckily the people who made it were happy to supply a spare cassette, meaning I didn’t have to buy it all over again.)

I remember buying a copy of the book to give away, too, so it’s not as if I was being particularly economical about it.

So there I was, filling my shelves with books, and no Journey to the River Sea. I looked at the cassettes, and I looked at the empty gap among my Eva Ibbotson books, and knew I needed to own this one.

Eva Ibbotson, Journey to the River Sea

What’s more, I felt it needed to be the original cover; the cover of the book I had read, and none of the newer looks. But now that you can buy used books online, it is at least possible to choose your edition, and for a reasonable price.

The gap has been filled.

(As a matter of interest, has anyone who knows this book come across an ‘adult version’ of it? Some time after I’d first read it, I discovered an adult novel by Eva that sounded similar, so I read that too, and realised she must have written it first, since it had practically the same plot, only a little more grown-up. I’m glad she re-wrote it, as the children’s story is far superior.)

The well-travelled library bed

I spoke too soon. It could be that Son would quite like the hifi somewhere in that room. The – ahem – library-cum-guestroom-cum-firstborn’s bedroom. We’ll have to see.

The much-thrown-about bed has been slept in. It’s the one Son adopted from some people in the Wirral a few years ago, which – on arrival in Edinburgh – proved too large to go down into the tenement basement flat, and which instead was walked round half the block, taken into the tenement opposite, through and out into that ‘garden’ and chucked over the fence into Son’s garden and in.

Bed move 2

A year later it was similarly chucked uphill back over the fence when it was time to move elsewhere, but at least this had been planned and there were more chuckers.

Another year on and Son sent the bed to us to be his bed in the new bedroom. And because there was a lot of decorating and unpacking needing doing, the poor bed has been shoved back and forth, with no room to call home. Until now. For a while it thought it would always have to stand on its side in the livingroom. But then it was displaced by the Christmas tree and spent December in the hall.

To make up for all this, the witch went to Glasgow and bought it something new to wear.

Flying bed

And then, when the hifi had been pondered and the now stationary bed slept in, the Resident IT Consultant and Son crept into the Grandmother’s flat while she was out and stole her kitchen table. But not her one and only. She has a collection of them. We needed a temporary desk for the boy.

They also lifted a rather nice bookcase, which I’ve had my eye on for almost 25 years. Although that was with permission.

Almost there

Bookshelves

And here they are, the ‘final’ shelves with actual books on them. Son is coming to inspect ‘his’ room, and the question is whether he will approve. Or will he notice there is no space for his hifi? I mean, who cares? Who in their right mind would use a large machine to listen to music?

We also need to get our three-book joiner to come and secure the whole shebang to the wall. Or else we could have a repeat of that time over twenty years ago when Son reckoned these shelves looked like ladder… The crash was very loud. Luckily both Son and the shelves and the books and the floor were pretty much as before, afterwards.

The eagle-eyed blog reader might feel like pointing out that there are some gaps still. That’s because I expect to have more books to put in there. Next week. And the week after. Also, there are double rows. Any book I want to find in future will be behind.