Richard Wright

author of strange, dark fictions



September 29, 2009 by Richard Wright in Journal, Life

I’m back. Not from India, obviously. Just back on the web, having forgotten that I can blog away quite comfortably from my iPhone. At the moment I’m reclining on my couch for what really will be the last time for a few years, although I hope there might be other couches in my future, offering similar opportunities for reclinement.

I accept that reclinement might not be a real word.

Anyway, today was utter madness, as men came in a truck to collect the rest of the overseas baggage to travel by ship. Much of this belongs to Eva, who I suspect is making midnight runs to a twenty-four hour toy shop, as there’s no way WE bought her that much stuff. Tomorrow the men return to collect the furniture, books, and so forth, all of which is going into storage. I think they wanted to do more of that today, but the books broke them, and sent them running away for more boxes. After tomorrow though, there’s nothing left to do but leave.

Thank god. Moving house looks easier on the telly.

Tonight and tomorrow, as our bedding has already left us, we’re throwing ourselves on the mercy of friends, the marvellous Phil and Lorraine in this case. There might even be a sensible lager shandy on the cards. Something like that, anyway.

Right, too tired to offer more, and far too hurty. Sleep well, wherever you might be, and I may check in tomorrow, friendly wi-fi connections permitting.

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