Last night I dreamt that the adoption agency were going to assess my suitability as a parent by judging my performance of a song-and-dance routine. I was performing "Is This The Way to Amarillo?", on the very slippery tiles beside a swimming pool.
Clearly my subconscious has some concerns :).
In other news, I have just received a delivery of three dozen cardboard boxes, for the packing of our extensive library. I am determined to be a bit measured about this house move. Usually I end up spending the twenty four hours before a move dividing my time between throwing stuff in to boxes randomly and rocking and sucking my thumb.
THIS TIME, I am planning. I am pacing myself. I am going to throw things out BEFORE we move, rather than whilst unpacking the other end.
I am a business director of a growing and successful company.
I can write a business plan.
I can balance my books (well, kind of).
I can service my own car.
I can make my own wine.
You would therefore, logically expect me to be able to plan a house-move without too much stress, wouldn't you?
We have an all-day show/awards/dinner gig on tomorrow, in an enormous glass-house type structure. It is going to be very hot indeed; I am going out later to buy four litres of water per person and a large amount of snacks - we start rigging at 6 am and the punters leave at midnight.
Back Saturday probably.