I’ve gone back to our family home for the weekend – well, a scant 24hrs, driving a short wheel-base Transit van in order to rescue the boxes & chattels I stored in one of the attics when I moved to America exactly four years ago.
I’m not in England permanently, but I have decided to set up a proper London base. After two years of suitcase-living all around the world, I am yearning for a place in which I can have all my possessions unpacked in wardrobes, drawers and cupboards, instead of in brown cardboard boxes in storage facilities, basements and attics around the world.
There were also one too many ambulances for lil’sis last year and I figure that if I can be based anywhere in the world, then I should be near her. So I am moving my life into the lower ground floor of a stucco-fronted house owned by two great friends, the sister and brother-in-law of Miss P of this parish.
It’s in what my mother would call the washed side of Camden, (as opposed to the unwashed – she means Regent’s Park as opposed to the Market), and I really can’t think of a better place to live for a New York transplant than a house with Whole Foods at the end of the street, and just 6 minutes by car from Oxford Circus (yes, I timed it) and five minutes from lil’sis and Posetta Baddog Central.
So: today is moving day. I loaded up the van last night. First with two boxes of crockery & the Lloyd Loom laundry bin from my father’s garage, and then to my mother’s to salvage the three pieces of furniture I still own (Herman Miller chair, Art Deco walnut bookshelf & vintage filing cabinet), having given away every other piece of furniture on FreeCycle last year, and various books, glassware and stuff. I’ve liberated a bedside table & my grandmother’s stool, & I was partic pleased to discover this box stashed in an attic corner with the pen pot from my childhood, my grandmother’s 50s ashtray, vintage necklaces and some pretty tealight holders.
Right: I’m off to shut up the van and drive back to London.