This weekend, I’ve been back up to Dundee, to try and set up the last remnants of The Move. It wasn’t as successful as I’d like, as I wasn’t feeling too good, for whatever reason. But basically all that’s left is a few boxes (probably merely a back-of-car-ful, rather than a van-ful) to bring down.

The major problem left is all the furniture and fixtures and fittings that I don’t need anymore as I’m moving to a furished flat. The Fridge has been delivered to SixfootHobbit, and the washing machine is to go to ChocolateMuffin. That just leaves me with… lots of stuff. Somehow I think I need to arrange a car boot sale or something.

So, anyway, the latest carful has arrived, and has been shoehorned in.

And good grief my flat is hot! Double glazing, and a window in the front room that I can’t seem to open, and it’s sweltering! I’ve got this liquid crystal Postcard Thermormeter thingy that up until about twenty minutes ago was telling me it had run out of temperature bands, it’s so hot. The highest band is 35 degrees C, just so you know.

I don’t know if the front room window is painted shut (or otherwise broken) or if there’s some cunning catch I haven’t spotted. Given that the front door needed an advanced engineering degree to operate (well, okay, you needed to push the handle up in order to engage the deadbolt, then lock it), the latter is probably the case. Must call someone about it…

Anyway, the room is cooling down enough that the highest thermometer band on my postcard (32-35 degrees C) is now lighting up. So hopefully I’ll be okay soon…