Working like a dog....

....to achieve a thoroughly suboptimal outcome, certainly from my perspective. Although the 'last rites' won't be played out for another week, when I go through the 'check out' procedure for the flat, for all practical purposes, neither K or I live in London anymore. K worked as hard as I did, to be fair, but she was far more invested in moving to 'uni-town' than I was in my relocation back to 'domicile-ville'. And she didn't have to drive the bloody van, which had definitely not been designed with people with my length of leg in mind. I've pretty much always enjoyed driving, but the past weekend's experience, after my not having driven at all for well over three years, was, frankly, no fun whatsoever. To spoil my mood still further, all the 'humping and dumping' I was doing culminated, yesterday morning as I was two-thirds of the way through moving my stuff from the van to my first floor room, in my suffering very painful, and, in terms of what I was doing, debilitating muscle spasms in my (dominant) right arm. It's still more than a little sore now, the upshot of which is that while I managed to get everything into the room, eventually, the floor looks like a jumble sale, with numerous bags and boxes of my belongings still needing to be unpacked and put away. It will be done, hopefully sooner rather than later, but it's thoroughly frustrating that I wasn't able to finish the job yesterday, as I'd originally planned.
Even if everything had gone totally swimmingly, though, one inescapable heartache would still have been there. The fact, of course, that unless something completely unexpected happens, I'll never live under the same roof as my girl again. I have no doubt that we'll always be close, but phone calls, however frequent, and the occasional meeting are no substitute for sharing a home. I'm going to miss her, more than I can say.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B