Knackered Dent

I am moved. I am knackered. I am about 1/3 unpacked and 2/3 chaos. I have my life lying about me in cardboard boxes; antiquated laptop, stack of canvases, pint glass collection, bag of old socks for cushion stuffing, old Uncle Tom Cobbly and all... But I am moved, and am now ensconced in Turnham Green (well, right now I'm at work at Kew, typing this on my office computer after hours, but you get my drift). I am moved. It's done.

My wonderful brother Stephen helped me move, coming all the way from Bath to do so. He was a rock, too, while I was a hysterical wreck. He drove back and forth patiently, did all the heavy lifting, and talked common sense to me whenever I started to wail and wave my hands in the air. We worked pretty much non-stop from 1pm to 1am the following morning; then he had a cup of strong coffee and some soup and drove home to Bath again. I don't know how I'd've coped without him. He's an amazing bloke and I love him to bits, and I'm a very lucky woman to have him for a brother.

He also put me in touch with an old university friend who became a solicitor, so I can put the messy business of my late godmother's will and the Trust fund and Cousin Pearl's estate into Geoff's capable hands and forget about it.

Feeling very relieved and very, very tired.

More another day. Going home now to empty a few more boxes. Have a good evening, all...