One

Gradually dismantling all the final things here - stereos, computer, and all the last things in the kitchen. Taking home apart and reassembling it up the road. In fact we began the reassembling yesterday. Some of our new kitchen cupboards are already full! So the transition from home to home is strangely seamless, and today I had fantasies of cooking dinner up there, though of course I wouldn't have missed last dinner here for the world. And the sparky came back and sorted almost everything that still needed sorting, and was very much gentler and easier to deal with in the absence of other (male) contractors... And our lovely new table arrived. And we hung the bedroom curtains so when the time comes tomorrow we shall be able to fall into bed without the need to climb a stepladder! Oh my, this is something to go through, and I'm proud of how well we've risen to all the challenges, and although I am very tired, I still have gas in the tank for tomorrow, and beyond!!

There will now be a possible interlude of up to two weeks, though it is also possible I shall seize some opportunity to blog away from home!

Two

We drove to Halifax in dazzling (and entirely unforecast) sunshine this morning, and to our surprise found the tiles we wanted for our kitchen at B&Q for about a third the price of the others we were looking at. Most of this afternoon we have been up at the new house, mopping floors again, and wiping surfaces, and cleaning the bathroom. I suspect we'll be cleaning up plaster dust for months to come, but it's getting better.

The gradual process is well under way of withdrawal of energy from this house where we've lived so snugly for five years, and investment in the new one. With this comes sadness. And immense excitement. I think the experience of living up there will be very different in many ways. The house is bigger, each individual room is bigger. The rooms are full of light and there are big views, and it is unbelievably quiet.

This evening friends E and A are cooking roast chicken for us, four doors up the road. We shall miss being so close, but we really aren't going that far. My exhaustion level is such that I fear this may not make the most interesting reading. But it is a kind of record of a particular and strange time. And the slightly pedestrian writing is symptomatic of 99% of my energy going elsewhere. I'm amazed I've kept this up at all!

Three

Too tired for coherence... Off to Nelson's wine bar for food and wine with friend J. We have power at the new house... and heat... and lots of dust. Multiple floor moppings required. And lots of builder's bits and pieces everywhere, and paint tins and little piles of screws in unexpected places... Nonetheless we move in on Monday and we do at least have a curtain pole in the bedroom! And it is gorgeous. Just have to keep letting go, letting go, letting go. It isn't finished, but in a few weeks it will be, so no matter. It rained most of the day from clouds that seemed to be about head height. Finished with a lovely sunset though. So much sky up there.

Four

The day began with a Feldenkrais lesson at C's house, and an encounter with her beautiful 18 month old son. The lesson and the encounter helped calm and lighten my spirits. Less enchanting were various encounters yesterday and today with the electrician, who is impatient, does not think ahead, and does not give one time to think when presenting questions and dilemmas. The earth out the back of the house, and the various pipes inside which wires run to and from it, are unsightly and we have not been given much opportunity to influence the decisions about their position. We hope we can find ways to cover them... The house has been rewired with stupid 3-prong bayonet bulb sockets in all the pendant lights, supposedly to meet new regulations re energy saving. The bulbs you have to use in them are only available from one source online at around £10 a go! Did he tell us these would be needed? Did he ask if we actually wanted them all to be like this? The requirement appears to be that 1 in 4 light fittings should have these sockets. About half of ours are this type... It seems you can buy the conventional ones quite cheaply and change them over yourself (standing on ladder, fiddling with wires etc), so you can use ordinary energy-saving bayonet bulbs, but having spent a fortune on the rewire this seems a little ironic. Anyway, for better or worse, the power goes live tomorrow morning at 8.00 - the official testing man runs his test, and then hopefully, the sparky goes away!

Our lovely 'vertigo' cupboard was delivered this afternoon - drawers at the top, cupboard underneath. Very fitting as I have been suffering from mild stress-related vertigo that is worst when I bend forward! The decorator's off to Spain tomorrow so the painting is on hold now, but 85% done I'd say. The 'Oriental Ginger' in the bedroom looks very tasty with the 'Natural Hessian'.

Back here we have been packing box after box - mostly books. I had forgotten how many boxes they fill!! I'm off now to pack up the 'second layer' of kitchen stuff, leaving only the essential 'first layer' to be done on the day. Eating out tomorrow and Saturday and cooking in two pots on Sunday! Next will be taking down the pictures, wrapping them, and finding a nice big box for them. Then the house will really start to look bare. Meanwhile the new one starts to have touches of home - some plants (one tall one lurking in the shower out of harm's way), a little table and the famous cupboard. Our fridge is up there too. We might even get it plugged in tomorrow.

Five

Tired tonight. Electrics nearly sorted but house is cold again as boiler now wired up ready but new circuits not yet tested and switched on. Tomorrow or Friday he tells us... Hey ho! The colour in the sitting room is given the thumbs up by friend S, though we were bit surprised by it yesterday. It's called 'On the Rocks' and it's... well, brown. I'll try to take a pic tomorrow. Joiner and decorator continue to be stars, good humoured despite the electrician cracking stupid jokes and calling them by ridiculous abbreviations of their names... D said his priority, before he goes off for 3-day winter break to Spain on Friday, was to leave everything 'not in a mess'. W said he wanted to 'get the little bits and bobs sorted out' before we move in. I feel very cared for!

Six

On overload today, having slept really badly last night. I think this is the moment when moving house lives up to its reputation as (is it?) second most stressful thing you can ever do. I feel like I've reached a tipping point when I can no longer hold in my head all the elements of what we are trying to do. Fortunately, being a very organised pair (especially L) a lot of it is held in lists in an impressive range of different coloured notebooks. The money stuff, the stuff to do with letting this house, the moving stuff...

Up at the house this morning, all was progressing well, and the electrician's mate at least, if not the electrician himself was hard at work, with an evident sense of urgency. Thank goodness... Tramping plaster dusty footprints all over the newly sanded and varnished bedroom floor, but what can you do? I told him to put hardboard under the feet of his stepladder. I hope the varnish was hard enough to cope with his trainers. The decorator has put some of the famous red (Toffee Apple) in the kitchen and it looks a treat, and starts to make sense of the other colour (Soft Stone). The joiner was busy with skirtings, and kitchen drawers, and the builder came up to go through our list of final things that need sorting with us. All fairly straightforward it seemed - I just hope he will remove the old carpet and underlay, old doors and leftover timber before Monday. Two things that still irk are a leaking radiator and the dirty floors in four rooms, the hall, and up the stairs and landing. But the plumber who fitted the new boiler turned up out of the blue, wired the timer, attended to the leak (fingers crossed), and then came here to do the landlord's gas safety certificate! He found me cleaning the oven. So much to do. We also picked up the boxes from our friends today so now the number of boxes in the house has reached some kind of critical mass where you are officially 'up to your eyes'!

Seven

We got up a bit earlier this morning than we have been doing, to get stuck into the week's tasks, the day grey and drizzly but mild compared with the last two weeks. After breakfast L phoned R the builder to get assertive about the absent electrician. R called back a bit later saying he'd 'put a rocket under him', and he is now due to complete our electrics tomorrow and Wednesday, with a test to be carried out on Thursday! She then phoned the plumber to get him to come and wire up the timer on the boiler on Friday. Then a phonecall to the phone people, then a call to our friends who have boxes to spare from their move. Off then to Halifax to try and choose tiles for the kitchen. A woman with a feather duster was giving all the tiles a thorough clean, but was just 'minding the shop' so she didn't know much about anything. We saw some we liked, slate grey and slightly matt, but feather duster woman was unable to advise whether they'd be suitable in a kitchen - how easy to clean, resistant to grease... Said we'd need to speak to the owner tomorrow. L was uncertain, and insisted we go to one of the big DIY stores to see what they had to offer. Tiles these days nearly all seem to be tiny or huge, and we want medium-sized ones, so not much choice really. L liked some very rough stone ones with holes in, very porous looking, resembling volcanic rock. I vetoed them even though she thought there might be some way to seal them...

This afternoon I took a heavy pile of curtains to the dry cleaner's, struggling down Market Street in the rain, only just getting to the shop without dropping them - 8 Kilos, which will cost £58 to clean. That's the business to be in obviously. I took my job application to the Post Office and sent it recorded delivery. So - it is done! I did the shopping - fresh bread from the bread shop, groceries from the Co-op, and came home... No more running around now. L is working her way through a long list of phonecalls to notify the Council Tax, Water Board, power company, mortgage company for the mortgage on this house, insurance company etc etc of our change of address. I made her coffee and a crumpet and she's still going strong. Currently dancing to the music the insurance company play when they put you on hold!

The hat on the wall has re-emerged from the melted snow. We are tempted to throw it away, it looks so very sad and forgotten, but somehow that is hard to do. There's still some pretty alarming ice on a stretch of pavement just down the hill from here, so most people are still walking in the road, but gradually normal patterns of activity are resuming around town. People seem relieved, more relaxed, wearing fewer layers of clothes, faces more visible.

Eight

...days until we move into the new house. I have decided to keep an online diary of the countdown. After that, who knows what will happen, as there may be a delay with getting the broadband up and running. One of the contractors (damp-proofing man maybe, though no-one will accept responsibility) hacked off the phone socket. We are awaiting the attentions of Openreach (the bit of BT that actually does the wiring)...

Today we took two carloads of stuff up to the house. The first time I said 'we must remember the camera next time'. The second time we forgot the camera again. So no pictures of the fantastic patterns the melting snow is leaving on the fields above the house. I expect they will be gone by tomorrow as the thaw is in full spate - water running down our new road, and trickling loudly in the gutter. We took boxes of books and CDs and kitchen stuff, and black bags full of clothes in the first load, plants and window boxes from the front yard in the second.

The house was once again a hive of activity (note to self - do not use this phrase again in the next seven days). The decorator was up a ladder painting the hall ceiling, the plumber had fixed the new ballcock in the toilet and was busy trying to get to the bottom of the pressure drop in the heating system - leaky radiators, which he 'nipped up', leaving the house warm again a couple of hours later. The floor sanding man arrived just as we did the first time, to do the light sand between coats of stain in our bedroom, fussed a lot about the lack of heat, though I assured him the plumber would sort it, then left an electric heater on in the room to ensure proper 'curing'. Notable by his absence was the electrician. Tomorrow first thing L will be on the phone to our builder who oversees the whole crew, to demand in the strongest possible terms that he gets on with it pronto. The ground is certainly soft enough now to get the earth rod in... The decorator could do with being able to work later than 4.00 when it gets too dark for painting by natural light.

I swept up a lot of plaster dust and rubble from my blue room floor, rather shocked at how dusty the bags and boxes already in there had become. Stacked everything neatly in the corner, out of the electrician's way. L swept up a bit downstairs and we both chatted to the guys about floors, walls, radiators, absent electricians... On our second visit, the plumber was just leaving, the house now empty, so we peacefully went from room to room, inspecting, absorbing, noting things still in need of sorting (leftover timber from the kitchen floor, old doors, old carpet to be got rid of, doormat to buy for the mat well, a cheap solution for the bathroom floor needed- currently dirty and pretty rough and ready boards...) I fretted that I am not sure I like the colour on the kitchen walls. The red 'feature walls' not yet done, so probably too soon to make a judgement, we reasoned. The radiators were very hot, so we turned the heating down a little. The house felt calm, light, spacious, waiting.

We came home to a late lunch of pizza, and felt totally exhausted, not for the first or last time. L looked through the job application I've been working on, and gave me a few suggestions. I could not take them in at all, finally realised I couldn't keep my eyes open, so went and lay down, and fell fast asleep immediately... An hour later, I feel somewhat refreshed, my eyes still gritty from plaster dust. Now I will amend the job application and aim to send it off tomorrow, before things become too chaotic to contemplate such a task. The job is writing-related, and local. I can say no more...

No Grip

Rain, and gouts of snow are falling from the roof,
our feet will not stay beneath us
as we try to get from the car to the hardware shop,
wet ice, no grip, no ground, impossible.

We buy door-knobs, latch sets, hinges, hooks,
all brass, or brass plate,
slither back to the car with them in a big box,
the woman from the shop watching at the door.

Here Comes The Kitchen II

The new boiler is working, and we entered a warm hive of activity today. The joiner busy laying the kitchen floor, and finishing off the cupboards and drawers.

Another lovely man was hard at work in our dust-filled bedroom, noisily sanding the floor.

And at last there is colour on the upstairs walls. Downstairs will follow when the heat has dried out the last of the new plaster... This is my study/ writing room/ private space. Empty rooms are not that easy to photograph - nothing here but the first few boxes we've taken up - but I'm so happy about this colour, which is called Dragonfly!

What I Will Remember

Salty tide marks around the bottoms of my trousers. Melting snow on floors where anyone walks in their outdoor shoes. Shoes in the porch, drying, getting cold... Cars and buses filthy with salt and grit-melted spray. Having to think carefully about a viable route before deciding to go anywhere, by car or on foot. Icicles on cars, hanging from gutters, on the sides of railway cuttings. Taking five minutes to get dressed to go out - coat, scarf, hat, gloves, boots. Wearing four layers of clothing at all times (inside). Checking the weather forecast obsessively. Being 3 feet (the other side of a window) from the blackbird visiting our window-box to eat food put there by L. Seeing our breath in great plumes in the new house. The smell of cardboard boxes. Putting all my poetry books out of reach for a few weeks. Learning that modern electrical standards demand the presence of an earth rod if you have overhead electric cables, and that earth rods have to be sunk a metre deep into the ground... That in -4C birds can't get at worms, graves can't be dug, and yes, earth rods can't be installed...

A Rescue

The sudden loss of control - surrounded by snow and the car no longer moves at my bidding. The wheels spin, the engine revs - smell of hot rubber and hot engine. No-one in sight. Sun sparkles on snow. I edge forward a little, than once again try to reverse out of my predicament, back towards the gritted road I left only a few yards behind. More wheel-spinning, no progress. I turn off the engine and get out. I don't have a shovel. I don't have a bag of salt and grit. I get back in the car, try one more time, before preparing to go in search of help. Then a golden retriever appears, up the path to my right, followed by another. Followed by a man. A man who tries his best to push me out, backwards up the slope to the road. Advises me not to rev the engine, is patient with my lack of experience of being stuck in the snow. Is probably 70, and possibly shouldn't be doing this... Concedes, just as a landrover comes by. He hails the men in the vehicle - tells me they are farmers and will pull me out!! They speak only a few words, the two farmers, but quickly and efficiently, one of them produces a rope, and attaches it to the back of my car. The man with the dogs tells me to put it in neutral, and the landrover slowly moves forward, and with ease, pulls me up to the road. I get out and thank all three of my rescuers, the retrievers barking, gold against white, get back in my car, and drive down the road to park where I should have parked all along...

West Yorkshire Today

A strange day of relentless snow, falling steadily in sometimes large flakes, sometimes small, from before daylight, until well into the afternoon, when it was almost growing dark again. A total of 6 inches accumulated outside our door. Piles of it grew tall on top of posts on the allotments opposite, teetered, and fell. It sat thickly along the telegraph wires that span the road, and the washing lines outside the back door. Sometimes a gust of wind blew clouds of powdery whiteness off the trees, evocative of an avalanche. Clumps fell from the wires and lines. All the schools were closed, and sometimes a wild child sped past the window, running into a massive skid down the hill, or a snowball flew by, followed by a darting group of pink-faced boys, dragging plastic sledges. The blackbird returned again and again to eat the bread and apple and dripping L had put out in the morning, a second lot this afternoon. At one point a magpie saw him off, only to be trumped by a jackdaw. Bold magpie came back, held his ground, continued his meal. When they'd all gone, back came the blackbird and the little blackcap.

Long Goodbye

My house, with the green door frame leading into the kitchen, a step down to blue vinyl flooring. The high shelf of books in the living room, the uncarpeted stairs up from the kitchen, noisy, white-painted. The upper stairs with the dark blue carpet with red and yellow border. All the stripped pine doors, the quirky assortment of old doorknobs, the green and white tiles in the bathroom. The view across the road, up into the trees behind the allotments, shining dark in the rain, branches edged with white in the snow, all the birds that visit the hawthorn just across from the window. The fat blackbird L's been feeding every day with ham fat, and bread crusts, apple, dripping and crumbs! And the newly arrived blackcap who seems to rub along with the backbird, and the jackdaws, occasional visitors who see everyone off... The running milkman we hear every morning, thundering down the alley alongside the house at about 8 o'clock to deliver milk to our back neighbours. Our porch, with the walking boots on the shelf above the door which I can reach and L can't. Our two little rooms under the roof, with the dark beams and the velux windows. The view between salt-glazed chimney pots down into the valley.

Happy New Year

Three years since I started blogging, albeit not at this address.

Hoping this year will be calmer, more creative and spacious than last.

An exraordinarily bright full moon shone from clear frosty skies as we walked back from our new year's celebrations some time after midnight. Almost too bright to look at directly. There was just the most delicate dusting of snow over everything.

2010 seems a strange name for a year - it just doesn't look right somehow.

Up to ears in boxes and lists. In three weeks' time we shall be in the new house!

Happy New Year to you all, and thanks for your loyalty and concern ... and for reading.