So the packing up began in earnest, taking longer than it would have done had I been able to use two hands. The emotional memorabilia currently filling two drawers had to be reduced to one shoebox. The clothes that I hoped would one day fit me again were relegated to the pile for the Opp Shop. I kissed goodbye to the china tea set my parents had carefully carried in their hand-luggage from England to South Africa many years previously, but had not been used for the past ten years.
Being unable to drive was less of a disadvantage than it might have been, due to the very convenient position of our house. I could walk to the shops, which I did every day, restricting my purchases to a comfortable one-handed carry. Wine necessitated a second trip. As did potatoes.
A yellow and red plastic kennel arrived for Einstein, confirming his first-class plane ticket. He was reluctant to go into the cage, even with tempting tit-bits placed at the far end. However, the kennel was simple enough to dismantle and build up piece by piece, so by the time we were ready to leave, it had become one of Einstein’s happy places.
When we moved from South Africa to Australia, Vaughn had gone ahead, leaving me to oversee the final packing. This time, Vaughn was in the middle of a project, so the removalists had to be booked for a day when he was in Melbourne.
The pet courier service came to collect Einstein, assuring me there would be plenty of water available and ‘comfort stops’ along the way. But the dog’s suspicions were aroused, and he was very reluctant to climb into his little yellow cage, even with one of my unwashed T-shirts there for company.
I arrived at the airport looking larger than usual and slightly sweaty, as my jam-packed suitcase had reached the maximum weight allowance, so I was obliged to wear everything that didn’t fit in.
The plane journey was fine, although the stewardess was concerned that my cast should have been split in case of swelling. However, I was able to assure her I had checked with the doctor and also the airline policy. I had no plans to swell.
As I stood waiting to disembark, I watched the ground crew unloading boxes, bags and crates, but no little yellow cages. I was sure I could hear an Einie cry somewhere far below.
At the baggage carousel, eventually I saw my large blue bag bump through the opening. But people were all pushing to the front, and when I tried to reach one-handedly for my heavy bag, I failed to grasp it and ran along beside the conveyer until I was forced to give up. I glared at all the young males standing around, but none would make eye contact. By the time my bag came round for the second time, a lovely lady helped me lift it on to the trolley…
Marian's Monday Memories 