Just the two of us

Something always goes wrong when you’re moving house. When we moved to Genie Towers (it was only going to be temporary, but 17 years on we’re still here) we were at the back at 9am loading our van for the first time, ready to bring stuff here, empty it and return for the second load (it was only a small van) when the large van of the person buying our old house turned up at the front. We hurried and hastened and I took a car laden with plants, dogs, toddler and sundry other belongings to the estate agent’s office to get the keys to the new house only to be told the money wouldn’t be transferred till lunchtime and I couldn’t have the keys till then. This being in the days before mobile phones I then drove back to the old house to pass on the good tidings, having stopped at the new house where the men with our van were waiting patiently. We managed to get the keys when the office opened again after lunch and it all turned out all right in the end, but the experience was traumatic.

So I was right not to expect The Boy’s move to go swimmingly. We loaded his car and ours, and he set off to the estate agent to collect the keys, and we were to meet him at the house. His phonecall saying that one sharer’s first month’s rent and deposit hadn’t been paid and could he borrow £400 rather caught us on the blind side.