The major spanner in the works at this point in the story, was that I now had an empty house, and furniture to fill it, however the furniture was somewhere other than the house, and I had a normal car and only one pair of useful hands. I couldn’t really envisage moving a corner sofa into a living room with my two small daughters at one end of it, bearing its weight. Nor could I imagine Stan being involved in any way being anything other than a massive liability. The only man I could ask to help was Michael, as he was the only man I knew but he was 71 years old, and had already gone beyond what could be considered reasonable to help already.
In steps Abbie Fritz with the power of social media behind her. And a massive truck. If I’m honest I don’t really understand the details of how Abbie became so actively involved, although I did understand that she had started a group on facebook in honour of our plight – presumably as she had seen us on the news? Anyway, she had somehow contacted Michael and arranged to meet me at his house 9am Saturday morning to collect the furniture from the Restore, as well as a plethora of other donations leant to us by Benders that were happy to donate some other useful items.
How she got Michael on board I don’t know. He seemed genuinely happy to help and kept claiming ‘I just want this finished’ ambiguously enough that he may have been joking, but I was more concerned as to how Abbie Fritz had broached bringing him on board. Had she asked him, assumed it or maybe even demanded? I’m not sure, and at some point I will ask Michael.
What followed was an understandably arduous day for all involved. A convoy of two trucks: one with Michael flying solo, the other (which was a 6 litre monster) had Abbie, myself and a small lap dog named something. Apparently it was a care dog, trained to react to certain emotional triggers of which I cannot offer an example, suffice it to say it could cheer you up if you were upset, but would be useless if you got mugged.
The Restore had some really good stuff, and had this piano been there when I was given the keys I’d have had a real dilemma on my hands. Could a baby grand be considered a necessity?
We circumnavigated Bend collecting it’s offerings, and then arrived at the Restore to collect the rest of the booty, all the while delivering to the new abode to arrange it all whilst Michael’s wife Jane looked after my unruly children. It was a hard day, but much was achieved and it was all thanks to Abbie and Michael, who worked like dogs and retained a cheery disposition throughout. I didn’t really know how to thank them. I promised to take Abbie and her partner to dinner, and we left on the promise of arranging a further meet. Michael just offered me a fatherly hug, which I must admit felt good, and suggested no such repayment was necessary. Neither felt adequate for the efforts of the day.
This left us so close, but yet so far as despite now being kitted up adequately for living in, we had no bed clothes in the house, and possibly more importantly no internet.
I remember in December 2010 we had an issue with our internet provider back home in Keswick. We were at the time with Orange, and whilst I don’t remember quite why, I do remember being without Wi-Fi for 5 days over Christmas. Even then it was really disabling, even before the days of Netflix it gave an unnerving feeling of disconnection. This was perhaps emphasized by pre-roaming phones which by coincidence was similar to my current situation in Bend, as I had no roaming data here either. Jane and Michael acquired all the necessary bedding the following day, but it wasn’t until the Bend Broadband engineer: Michaela installed a router that I felt we could all move in.
I’ve since reflected on the idea that my home was only inhabitable once it was connected, as I’m not an active user of social media, and I’m to the greater extent happy engaging in an offline world. Perhaps it was the pacifying effect it has on the kids that appealed. In a way that’s even more concerning. Perhaps I’m simply institutionalised: I don’t need it but I think I do. Either way I found it strange.
After an afternoon spent in an insurance brokers paying for house insurance I neither wanted nor needed, we acquired the keys and moved in. I swooped round to the bus station to collect Simone who was tired from travel and jet-lag, but jacked up on men dressed up as women, glitter and cutting put downs so I took her to her new home. I may have even carried her over the threshold, which felt very English, and a little sexist at the same time.
She dutifully hid any reservations she may have had about the décor, realising not only that her arrival coincided precisely with the moment the move was complete, but that criticising the efforts of all involved was more than our marriage was worth, and so we settled in, hoping desperately that this was an end to our rocky beginning.