Letting Go

Been through hell and back with the shifting effort. Moving house is hard graft : parting with old thingys – most of all books, picture frames, post cards, music and DVDs is what must have led to the old English expression; parting is such sweet sorrow I shall have a crew cut on the morrow. It’s a different matter I have been listening in religiously to Deepak Chopra’s “how to” CD on “learning to let go,” long before I was primed to shift. But it ain’t helping.




Books and magazines, are by a long over, the stickiest wicket for detachment. I don’t really give a hang about parting with old wellies, vests, cardigans or Zegnas – call me old school but don’t we just love the smell of print on ageing paper. You can’t take it all with you but while you are here, maybe you still can. Looking at the brighter side of things, compared to many others I know , I had one less thing to grapple with - the agony of extinguishing memories of old flames, and of romantic times in the past perfect. You see, I have not been so fortunate in that one department of “and so to bed” etc. Haughty, naughty 



The physical effort of shifting itself presents a daunting task – a task weathered by none other than our fair weathered friends from the packers and movers who, are in every sense, the only movers and shakers in your life during that critical phase translocating from A to Z.



Okay, so I am in my new abode. I can put my boots up on the coffee table and look smug, right? Come again ?! You did’t say. But there’s still all that un-packing left to do deciding what fits best where : something that is infinitesimally more difficult to do than fitting things into boxes, and leaving it to the P & Ms to do the rest. So much for modern day conveniences and urban living!



The shifting’s been 15 days old, to be precise but I feel as though I have been shafted only the day before. Guess, it will take a while and a quarter for there to be a complete closure on the several there-afters of Operation Shifting. I cannot begin to tell you how difficult it is to get away with those nocturnal flagrante delictos and not have a venetian or a curtain for cover. But with these things, there’s never really any end point, is there now?

Shifting like ageing is a work in evolution. Touche.


Happy Homing!