too much

Despite running the risk that this post will exceed all commonly accepted limits for blog entries, I want to mention a few of the things that kept me busy during the last two days.

Monday morning: Stacked boxes and so much more into truck, cleaned apartment, handed over keys. Drove up north with a friend. Picnic in style with good bread, cheese and ham – and yummie tomatoes – just after Lyon, followed by torrential rainfalls. The highway was literally covered with a layer of water a few centimeters deep. Especially exciting when tsunamis generated by passing trucks drown every last bit of visibility.

Dijon, Reims and endless plains. Dinner after about 800km. Downtown Amiens is neat, recently cityscaped and surprisingly bland. No one's in the streets because the rain is back with a vengeance. The old houses near the mighty Gothic cathedral, full of bars and restaurants are much nicer and livelier.

Hotel for the night in Le Touquet, the summer resort for smart Parisians in the early 1900s. No beach in sight but water everywhere. Our ark kept us dry.

Speedferry across the Channel. Now here's a company that deserves its name. We spent the 50-minute ride on deck with the boat doing 30 knots. Imagine sitting on the wing of an airplane that's about to take off. Never before have I felt speed so forcefully. I'd say Boulogne is worth a day-trip from London just for the thrill of the crossing.

England. Even though I'm not nauseated anymore by left-side traffic, my friend volunteered to drive the last bit into London. I call the agent. The apartment won't be ready before Saturday, and I can't drop my boxes off because the carpet hasn't been laid. Putting them in storage requires a recent utility bill. What the hell? If I had an apartment, I wouldn't need storage.

Another friend, a resident of London, promises to come to the rescue, but not before the end of the afternoon. Friend number one needs to go see her parents and organize the stuff she's going to take back to Grenoble tomorrow. I sent her off promising to join her when the truck is empty. "Just text me the address."

Now it's me navigating the urban jungle, steering an oversize van through dense traffic, focusing on going on the left side more than on crosswalks, lights or pedestrians. Before every turn, I'd start yelling "Left, left" at myself. It's hilarious.

Suddenly, I notice that my passport is still with my friend. Trying to call her, I notice that I don't have her UK number and she doesn't have mine. Up to yesterday, we communicated with our French cell phones. Mine doesn't work in the UK, though. How will I get her address? More stress than is healthy on a Tuesday afternoon. I find my friend's French number and text her with my UK phone. I hope she will check it. Coffee, please, and a dry shirt.

My friend finally sends me the address, the other friend helps me unload, and after driving madly for another 45 minutes, I'm rid of the truck. Another hour of tube and walking and I'm at my second friend's house where I immediately collapse on the sofa. Two days of insanity have just ended.

Note how I didn't mention last weekend at all. I was in Aachen for a good friend's wedding. I am glad I took the trip despite being stressed out with the move to London, and there are a ton of stories to tell. But it's too much for one day already.