Almost as if Cardiff didn't want me to leave just yet, my house keys went missing on the day of the move. Well, I say on that day, but because i never take keys off my keyring, i naturally assumed that they were still there. So after a 3 hour, 180 mile drive, we arrived to find that my key had slipped off in the night.
Luckily though my housemate, though she had recently moved to bristol, happened to be working at a conference in a nearby hotel just 5 minutes down the road! A quick trip to the key cutters via the hotel and we were back in business, but not before a trip to Central Bar Wetherspoons.
We spent maybe 3 or 4 hours packing and cleaning, cramming the car with every possession I hadn't already smuggled across the border in previous visits. The only things that had to be left behind (apart from some furniture and computers I gave away) were a pair of old speakers that were found in a shed back in my student hovel. The circle of life decreed we leave them outside the house to await their next owner as there was no room in the car (though they might find them a bit lacking in high-end as I fitted a crossover to turn them into subs).Now I've got to figure out how much of the stuff I brought back I actually want to keep, giving bits to charity shops, church, friends, etc so that the next move will hopefully be a better fit.
My housing contract has ended, I've sent the key back. The only thing I haven't done is tell Cardiff council I won't be voting there any more. Chances are they've lost my details again and won't miss me anyway, englishmen only slow down the devolution process.
Though I may be gone, I have not left. In the words of Evita, "Don't cry for me Wales, I'll be back a week saturday."
Or something like that.
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