Moving house is a kind of trauma. It can leave you feeling drained, shattered, and exhausted. But if you have a posse of pals who are happy to lend a hand, it can be a very moving experience.
When I moved into my previous house, I boldly declared, “I’m not moving again. They can carry me out of here in a box.” Famous last words. I got divorced, and it was time to move to a smaller place. After 17 years in my dream home, it was time to pack up and start again.
I hired a removal company for the heavy lifting, and braced myself for the packing, sorting and chucking out process, squaring my shoulders for this brutal, lonely task. Ha! My friends were having none of it.
When you say you’re moving, all kinds of people offer to help. And if you’re a control freak like me, it’s hard to know what to ask for. It feels like only you know how things should be done. Or it feels like an imposition to expect them to spend their precious time wrapping your plates in newspaper. But my friends know me. They didn’t ask – they just showed up. So if you want to help a friend move, here are some ideas.
Pauli arrived at my house armed with a moving survival kit that contained not just packing tape and permanent markers, but ballpoint pens, wet wipes, chewing gum, energy bars, a knife for cutting boxes open and a measuring tape and chocolate. I used every single thing in that container at various times during the move. It was genius.
She was also one of the people who pitched up either on a weekend or while I was working, and just put things into boxes. Pauli, Alison, Louise, Robyn, Joe and Margie all packed things for me. I’d simply point them at an area of the house, explain how to catalogue the boxes’ contents, and off they’d go.
Joe and Margie helped me to move umpteen loose items that just weren’t appropriate either for boxes or for the removal van. And when I ran out of boxes, they went and found me some more. Alison, who owns a cavernous Toyota Condor, parked it in my garage for a week, so that I could fill it with more of those loose items. And when I was ready, she drove it over.
Clive shopped around for a washing machine for me. I needed one urgently, but I didn’t have the time to go and see what was available, compare prices and so on. He found one, I paid for it, and it was delivered to the new house. He even helped me to install it.
The night before I moved, Ruth, Julia and Clive helped us to move our clothes across – we just lay the hanging stuff down in boots and back seats, and put them straight in the cupboards. On moving day, Helen drove my kids to Jacquie’s house, where they could do homework, relax and eat, so I could concentrate on the move. When the van had arrived at the new house, Jacquie brought them over, with dinner. I almost wept with gratitude.
Jonathan kept me company at the old house, not just sweeping each room in the figurative sense, for small items left behind, but literally sweeping floors and dusting behind where large furniture items had been so the new owners would have a reasonable space to move into. Hayden met us at the new house, and while I was back at the old one supervising the last few things, he and Jonathan put most of my furniture into place – and in ways I wouldn’t have thought of in some instances.
And then there were the unpackers – Nicola and Jenni spent a Sunday morning putting my kitchen stuff into cupboards, and Judith popped over one weekday and unpacked all my books.
It was truly breath-taking – in fact, there were probably others I’ve forgotten, although I hope not. But even if you can do none of those things, one of the best things you can do is bring food. Remember that when you move, you whittle down the contents of your fridge and freezer to nothing, and by the time you realise you’re hungry, you just don’t have the energy to cook.
Take bread and milk and cheese and tomatoes. Or a rotisserie chicken and some pre-prepared vegetables. Take meals for the freezer – because it takes weeks to unpack. Arrive with a pizza and some cold beers. The recipient will be eternally grateful, believe me.
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