City Folk On The Move

"My old man, said 'foller the van, and don't dilly-dally on the way!'
Off went the van with me 'ome packed innit.
I walked be'ind wiv me old cock linnet.
But I dillied and dallied,
Dallied and I dillied,
Lost me way and don't know where to roam...."
(Charles Collins/Fred W. Leigh)

And that's what happened, on Friday July the 8th 2001. Unfortunately for my two kids who at 11 (going on 16) and 8 (still thankfully 8), were subjected to my off-key rendition, and having never lived within the sound of Bow Bells, were very unimpressed by my warbling in what seemed like a foreign language!
"Are those real words Mom?" Emma, the eldest and most apt to bring me back to reality with a resounding crash asked with a curl of her extremely flexible upper lip.
"Of course they're real words" I told her, "it's how folk speak over in London England." It's testament to the length of time I've been here that I now easily add the "England" when speaking of London as they do here in Ontario. But enough of the singing and back to the beginning.

"It's too small!" I'd proclaimed in shock when seeing the first truck roll up at 9:20 that morning. My anxiety, starting to rise above acceptable levels, sent my voice a little higher too, but I was put firmly in my place by Sam the mover who informed me that the street we were starting at was too small for a big truck, so two smaller ones were the only way to go.

Finally we all pulled out of the street we'd called home for the past 13 years. The neighbours waved; the little girl next-door-but-one cried in great gulping sobs as she ran with the car to the main road, waving us off in good style. If I hadn't been so stressed, I might have sobbed with her.

The trucks had zoomed out first, with their occupants who had sweat gallons in the stifling heat emptying our three storey town home. They planned to pick up lunch and meet us in Grimsby, 35 kilometers further west. My hubby went next in our van, and myself and the kids attempted to keep up in the car.

To say we were all fully loaded would have been understating the obvious! (and not a drop of alcohol in sight:) Frozen buns, stir-fry veg and chicken thighs rammed unceremoniously into a bag, sat on the passenger seat as the thermometer registered a balmy 29 degrees C. Only then did I realize my error in packing the cooler in a box almost a week earlier. To try and prevent instant defrost, the air con was cranked and we were on the way.

Entering the highway from the ramp, my happy rendition of "My Old Man" was brought to a dramatic stop when I realized that all three lanes ground to an unexplainable halt. So, as the song says, the dallying and dillying started.

It took over an hour to travel a 30 minute journey. Miraculously I did remember to pick up lunch for us all, finally arriving at the new house while the unloading of the trucks was already well underway:)