Personal

The slipper fits

This picture makes it look worse than it really is. There's space for a few more things in the Transit, but not many more.

Next stop: home sweet home.

Personal

The day before

Who would have known that a one-bedroom house can fit so much stuff?

Emma's front room is now one large pile of boxes, bags and furniture. Six months after we agreed a price we finally pick up the keys to our first house tomorrow.

So the bigger question is, will all these possessions fit in the van we've booked.

Personal

On the move

A "To Let" sign has just been put up outside the house in Reading. Although it's not directly related to our house purchase, it's the most warming physical indicator that come the end of the month the next chapter will begin.

Personal

Eight miles per hour

The crash was bad. It closed a key motorway junction, pushing traffic onto my usual route to work. The refugee drivers headed north towards and acknowledged over-worked junction with the additional joy of major roadworks. Is it a surprise another accident happened?

And so it came to pass that I spent one hour in the fast lane of a dual-carriageway with my engine turned off. The driver of the car in front of me fell asleep while we waited for the traffic to move.

Today's statistics: twenty miles in two and a half hours. Eight miles per hour. Quicker than walking, but I'm glad I won't be doing this journey for much longer.

Personal

Role reversal

Em's just called me: she's in Woodbridge, walking down to the cinema. Meanwhile I'm at her house in Reading. It's a switch of roles we've played many times over the past year and it makes me feel very strange.