Of Storage and Stretch Pants for Men

Just a bit more than a week left in London...two more days at Christies and then I shall be gone. The week's farewell festivities have so far resulted in a lovely dinner at Awana in Chelsea with Pat, Lizzy and Rachel (Malaysian food, I think they're trying to wean me off the chips), continue tomorrow with a traditional Textiles Tea, and will end on Friday night with an elegant evening of pints in the Duke. Not sure if all this means that in fact they are quite pleased to see me go. I choose to think people are trying to ease their inconsolable grief at the loss of me. I am pretty cool. 

Estate agents have shown the flat a few times, but no takers yet.  In a spectacularly badly-timed jaunt, husband has taken off to Poland for a few days of Tata-Fun with the boys (not as naughty as it sounds, actually). I have it mostly well in hand, but am enjoying making him feel guilty anyhow. Also ordered long-johns for him, despite his protests--photos will follow, once he realizes I'm right and it will be cold in a tent in Belgium in April. That's right, David in leggings. Don't say you're not giggling.

Storage people coming with a giant crate a week from today, to take away all my lovely things. I will now be the proud owner of two households-worth of stuff in storage, 3,500 miles apart. Must pack it all...but I think I shall wait on David for that part.