Cinnamon patrol

Here some some snaps of the new apartment.

Main bathroom and 2nd bedroom not included, as they are works in progress.

The rental agent's plumber failed to turn up for the final time yesterday, so we have sourced a new plumber ourselves. I'm hoping for good things.

As you can see, our couch is particularly generous. On the days when it's cold and rainy outside (i.e. all of them for the next 4 months), it is quite hard to leave it for work. Often I think of just sitting there and doing a Discovery marathon, punctuated only by the Angelus at 6pm on RTE1.

Labels: david, Dublin, Moving

Sheesh, it's been two weeks since I've posted! Where has all the time gone?

Well, most of my (awake) time has been spent at work. I still like work, which is a minor miracle. I like the driving-commute better than the bus-commute, and haven't had an accident yet (another minor miracle, considering the generally poor driving skills I've encountered). I'm finding the time difference with my Canadian and American colleagues frustrating at times, so I've started leaving a weensy bit earlier, and emailing in the evening. I get less purely work-free time, but I'm far more efficient.

I have spent a small amount of time knitting. Much less time that I would have liked. But I'm well on my way to finishing a beautiful shrug in a jade green bamboo that I bought in Paris. I really, really hope I'll have enough yarn - I asked for extra, but the girl gave a Gallic shrug as a response, which at the time I took to mean "oh, okay then", but which may, actually, have been "no, you won't need it". I think I *do* need it, so here's hoping...

The funniest bit of knitting the shrug was translating the pattern. No wait - it was watching myself knit it faster and faster as the ball of yarn dwindled into almost nothing. It was as if I might magically have more yarn if I knit fast enough. (Translating the pattern was pretty entertaining too, I realised that I remembered a lot more 5th-form French than I credited myself with.)

I've been reading a little, but not enough. I'm often too tired to do much other than slump in a chair in front of the tv and eat what David gives me. Tonight's blog post comes courtesy of our currently tv-free state in our new apartment - otherwise I'd be slumped and incommunicative.

Speaking of which, the move has happened. All that remains is for us to clean the old place and fight to get our deposit back. The new place is large, airy, light, and much more like what we're used to. It's not large-large, but it feels much larger than the old place, even if it's probably just the same size. Plus, we have an under-the-stairs cupboard, aka the Harry Potter cupboard.

(And no, I haven't read the new Harry yet - I'm trying not to buy a non-matching book for my set of paperbacks. So that's a 6-month wait... Someone did very kindly offer to lend me their copy though, and I'll certainly take the offer up once they're done.)

I've spent a fair bit of time talking about the weather. Ireland is having it's coldest, rainiest winter yet, apparently. I'm not entirely convinced that people aren't conspiring to lie to us till we're too entrenched here to leave. But it rains every day, and for a fair bit. Plus it isn't hot. So no summer for us this year. I'm beginning to think that the Ireland-and-green association is not only due to the trees, grass, etc. - but also to mould from such a damp climate...

Amidst all the hustle and bustle of our busy lives, it's almost my birthday again. I'll be 29. As in, 30 on my next birthday. Now, I know loads of people who have turned 30 or more, and they're all fine. I truly believe that my 30s will probably be even better than my 20s. Yet I still feel like I'm playing at being a grown-up. I find myself saying and doing things like my parents (hi, parentals!), I like early nights, and I complain about noisy, inconsiderate people. It's like I've gone straight from 20-something to a pensioner.

Oh, and David teases me that I'm the fun police.

Anyway, as the big 2-9 approaches, I ponder the usual questions, plus a few new, fun ones:
- Can I nip down and buy some booze right now, or do I need to find some photo ID?
- Do I still look about 18 when I wear jeans and a hoodie, or do I now look like a mid-20-something?
- Why do I always want yarn that is impossible to buy in, or get shipped to, where I live? I mean really, I have relatively pedestrian tastes, and I could understand NZ - but this is EUROPE, people! Not continental Europe, but Europe all the same!
- Now that we live in a 1-bedroom place, what's to bet that *everyone* will want to visit us? (Luckily for you, there's a nice and cheap hotel 2 doors down - or you can bring a tent and camp on the roof terrace if you don't mind the rain!)
- Are the 30s really the new 20s?
- When I turn 30, do I have to start buying swishier clothes and shoes?
- When are you really supposed to start with the eye cream?
- Will living in such a sunless country (seriously, people, the rain and rain and RAIN!) undo some of the sun damage that NZ wrought in my skin? If I spend 5 years here, will I cease to age for those years?
- What do I really want for my birthday, anyway? (Damned if I know, it's a tough one. Answers to my questions would be useful.)


Oooooooooh! One little brag before I finish. In November we're going to Pisa and Florence. Our flights cost us 90 euros altogether. Which is stupidly cheap. Plus, it's Italy. All we'll need is a pair of elastic-waist trackpants each, and an empty suitcase for all the wine we'll bring back. Oh, and a week to sleep all the pasta off :-)

And with that verrrrrrry long post, I'm off to read a bit of my book, and hope that David will bring me my post-yoga (his yoga, but anyhow) kebab soon. No Britain's Next Top Model tonight (no tv, ergo no tv shows - did I mention how much I miss having tv yet?) - might try catching up on some sleep instead.

Labels: Dublin, Knitting, Laura, Moving, Travelling, Work

At last, our stuff has arrived.

Here's a curly question for you: how long does it take you to jump out of the shower, answer your phone, dry off, get dressed, and meet someone to let them in?

Turns out that it takes me less than 2 minutes. Now, I was not very dry, nor was I very well-dressed. However, I was respectable enough to not scare the very nice delivery man. And what a nice delivery man he was - full delivery service, right into the apartment.

Once I got the boxes inside, I'd intended to moisturise, hang up my hastily-discarded towels, etc. - but I couldn't. Because the boxes blocked access to the bathroom. Just as well I didn't need to use it, I guess.

It took about half an hour for me to transform our apartment: from fairly tidy, to completely chaotic. There was a lot of good stuff in there, though - lots and lots of clothes, our beloved duvet, shoes, some hand-knitted items, and... yarn and knitting supplies!

Ah, my yarn. It was the first thing in the first box, which cheered me up no end. And it all just fit into the drawer I'd mentally reserved for it. But then I discovered this:

Forgotten cotton. Also known as Panda Regal 4-ply cotton, staple of my knitting life for the past couple of years, due mainly to its wide availability and cheap price. It helps that it's machine-washable, too - great for baby and children's clothes.

I got rid of a lot of this, but I'd forgotten how much I still had. And this definitely doesn't fit into my reserved drawer.

Of course, my knitting needle collection won't fit in there, either. Or my very small collection of books. Ah well.

You can probably guess how I'll be spending my time this afternoon: tidying, tidying, tidying. An episode of Grey's, more tidying, then going out to get a couple dozen more hangers to hang our clothes on.

And tomorrow? I'll be vacuuming and mopping. Because the boxes were filthy, so our recently-mopped floors (thanks, David!), and my feet, now have a thick layer of grey-black dirt on them in places.

Ah, good times.

Labels: Dublin, Knitting, Laura, Moving

Do I really need to say anything?

Labels: david, Moving

What happens when the you exceed your monthly bandwidth cap?

Your interweb speed slows. Really, really slows. Sloooooooooooooooooooows.

Makes it hard to sneak a quick interweb break in between packing boxes. I'm just saying...

Labels: Grumbles, Laura, Moving, the Interweb

How much does one month of short term accommodation in a fully-furnished apartment in the Dublin city centre cost? More or less exactly one fairly tidy 1990 Toyota Starlet GT Turbo as it turns out. So it was lucky for us that our 17-year old car is lusted after by many a young boy racer.

I decided to sell it on Trade Me using an auction. In the ad, I put my cell phone number in case anyone wanted to contact me to drop buy and check out the goods. Unbeknownst to me, I had attracted the attentions of large community of Toyota Startlet GT Turbo lovers, and they all clamored to call and text me at once. "How much do I want?", they would ask. "It's an auction - you're supposed to bid on it" I would say shortly followed by "No, I will not accept that cash offer unless you forgot a zero on the end."

Early in the afternoon, one Gerhard* (not real name) phoned to ask if he could look at the vehicle. He asked after my address which I gave him. He then asked if I could meet him half-way up Dominion Rd. No I told him, I can't. So he made plans to come and see me. A few hours later he phoned me to say he was directly outside my apartment to which I said, "Great, press button #18," to which he replied "are you on the corner of [insert random street names here]" to which I gave an emphatic "No." A short while late he called again to say he was now actually outside my apartment building, so I went down to see him. As I went outside I could see he was in the process of convincing some poor young lady he'd met on the street, my street, to give him her telephone number. Things did not look promising.

"Where is the car?" he asked. "In the carpark" I replied. Such was the character of the banter between us. I had decided that I would take Gerhard for an initial test drive to show him the capabilities of the car; specifically 1st and 2nd gear so that, duly appeased, he would then not feel the need to race around and put my life at risk. So I did that, and then we swapped, and he was fairly subdued except that he decided to turn left off a busy street without indicating when he was being tailed by a fast-moving bus. I closed my eyes.

After some protracted negotiations, Gerhard on behalf of his boy-cousin, and I, came to an agreement. I would withdraw the auction from Trade Me and Gerhard's cousin would pick up the car in a couple of Saturdays, just before we leave. He gave me a deposit. I gave him a detailed receipt. He asked for more detail, I provided it. This happened a few times. Soon the receipt read more like a novella. I was quite pleased with the plot - it had a strong narrative - Laura would have approved.

Unfortunately there was a problem withdrawing the auction from Trade Me and although no one could bid on it, and it said -"This auction has been withdrawn" - my phone number was still visible. So into the evening and the next day it went - *beep* *beep* "hi giv u 1500 cash for starlet", etc, etc.

I was originally going to talk about how expensive Dublin was, but I think the moral of the story is: always buy a sporty car because it's easy to sell it again. And fun to drive. I will miss you fairly tidy 1990 Toyota Starlet GT Turbo.

Labels: david, Moving

Today we had a tidy apartment.

Correction: today, we had a tidy apartment between 11am and 4pm.

"How does that happen?" you might ask. And well you might.

We had potential tenants view the apartment today, so we needed to tidy. And after the viewing (more of which later) we went out, and didn't come back until 4pm, when we brought home boxes containing some of the remainders of my childhood.

Hence the tidiness window.

Now, a note on the viewing: rental agents, not necessarily so intelligent. Where was the talking up of the fabulous apartment? Where was the thorough - or, hell, halfway decent - knowledge of the great features of the apartment, and the building?

I, on the other hand, would make a superb rental agent. I know how to highlight the good stuff, and spin the bad stuff. I also know how to remember property details - or at least read them off the relevant sheet of paper!

Anyway, the people were interested, apparently, which is good news. Tenants = mortgage payments made. And we looooove mortgage payments being made. L-o-v-e, love.

I've just spent a few minutes semi-restoring the tidiness, in case these prospective tenants fall through, and others are shown through while we're away. Keeping my fingers crossed that it's all for nothing though...

Labels: Laura, Moving

We're in a curious state of flux: looking wistfully back at what we've done - much of which we probably won't do again - and looking forward to new and exciting things in our future.

The beginnings are obvious: new wedded state (new jewellery!) , new life overseas, with (hopefully) great new jobs.

The endings are perhaps less obvious, but everywhere I look, I see "lasts". We had our work-related lasts almost a month ago now, but the personal lasts are coming thick and fast too. For example, we saw and said goodbye to some of my out-of-Auckland relatives after the wedding (hi Aunt Mary, Uncle Pat, Auntie Margaret, Uncle John!), and perhaps some of our families' friends too.

And as we pack - and boy, do we have a LOT of packing - we're constantly having lasts, sharing memories, and saying goodbye to things - and, at times, parts of our pasts.

Packing is hard work: choosing what to keep, throw away, or give to someone else (hey, Auckland City Mission, you know we love you, don't you? Our constant donations of black sacks full of goodies are probably a good hint!). There's a certain an amount of emotion involved.

Packing is even harder when you're already a little emotional (wedding, big move, in desperate need of a holiday!). I've been known to bring out the tissues every now and then.

In the midst of all the turmoil - emotional and physical, because our apartment is a tip - I've implemented an improved packing/ goods management system.

We have:
- A box full of TradeMe goods, labelled with the price if they're sold.
- Boxes of items to be sent ahead to meet us in Dublin.
- Boxes of items to be sent to us in Dublin when we're settled (aka "short term").
- Boxes of items to be sent to us... when we're ready. Long term stuff.

Most of these aren't labelled yet, so you have to just know what goes where. The boxes that are full and taped up are duly numbered, the number entered in our manifest, (go Excel!) and the goods therein noted beside the number, and the designated length of storage.

Boxes full of items such as kitchen goods aren't just labelled "Kitchen goods" - we're keeping a fairly detailed inventory of what's in each box, so when we decide to have things sent, we'll get what we want.

(I would've done this with the books, but apparently that was overkill. I don't think Lili understands the pervasive nature of learned home librarianship.)

As we pack, the clock keeps ticking. This time last week, we were celebrating our marriage. This time next week, we'll be in Gosford, preparing for our post-wedding celebratory luncheon. The week after that, we'll be back here in our apartment, cleaning furiously. And the week after that, I think we'll be in Goa.

Tick, tock... Back to the boxes for me.

Labels: Laura, Moving

Another picture we were sent.

Packing sucks BTW.

Labels: david, Moving, wedding

(doo doo doo doo, doo doo doo doo doo...)

There are now less than two weeks till The Wedding, and less than five weeks till The Move.

Consequently, we haven't had any time to enjoy our voluntary unemployment. We've been hard at work every day, liaising, organising, shopping...

With less than 2 weeks till we tie the knot, we've managed to get most things fairly sorted, and have had the chance to start some serious moving-related work.

A big part of that has been selling stuff we don't want on TradeMe. David takes the photos, I put the listings up and communicate with buyers, and post the items when required, and he deals with the face-to-face buyers.

We've had a fairly good run. OK, so selling our fan for $1 the week before it really started to get hot was not that smart, but to compensate we've done really well out of my knitting stash.

Deciding what to sell and what to keep is a work in progress. Storage ain't cheap, and neither is shipping, but it's hard to overcome the emotional attachment to some things. Here's hoping we get there...

Labels: Laura, Moving