Much ado about one thing

That one thing being packing up my life and moving to NZ. Such a simple thing as I write it in a sentence. Not such a simple thing in real life.

A quick update:

• two more days of work
  
• then one week of packing
• then moving in for a yet unspecified number of days with the parents. Still flying 7th
• party this Saturday evening in local pub...photos will certainly be shared
• no idea about what work I will do 'out there'
• still having to sit on hands to stop myself battering people about the head who suggest I am going to meet, marry, and sprog up with a sheep farmer within 2 mins of arriving. Give me at least 5! (wah HA).
• no idea where I am going to live after initial week of being hosted by kind family friends
• yes, I am excited
• no I haven't got anyone for the flat yet...yes I am confident I will have
• yes, I vaguely know one or two people 'out there'
• I have reserved space in a storage facility about 10 mins drive from here for my stuff (thanks Karen!)

Having people round to see your flat with a view to renting it is quite a pain as I have to be ultra tidy all the time, especially at that inconvenient time of just before leaving for work. Whilst this is doable for me, it is not enjoyable. But never mind, I should get used to living in a bit of a mess.

I can't quite get on with the good stuff of actually getting all my clothes out and planning what to take, as this is something that needs to be done prior to then packing it all in loads of boxes and storing it.

I am very much looking forward to my party on Saturday as there should be quite a few people and a totally strange mix of al my friends, many of whom don't know each other. What did Bridget Jones teach me? Oh yes, 'Ieaun, meet Hannah. Hannah is into amateur dramatics and was last seen on stage sporting a ridiculous wig and bright pink period dress. Ieaun is Welsh and I used to beat him at spinning tops'. Should be a good night :)

'Would you like some ID?'

...I enquired upon approching the bouncers outside a pub in Brighton centre last night, and seeing they were already checking someone else's ID. One of them looked at me and said 'nah, that's fine'.

Ha ha haa! Since he could barely see my face, I can only imagine that he wisely thought that even on a very wet evening only someone past the age of caring about fashion (and therefore clearly legal) would encase themselves in a big white waterproof coat and pull the hood drawstrings so tightly around my face that I looked like the Ghost of Christmas Future. Probably a wise assumption.