Hannah and Sam still haven’t got confirmation that the house sale and purchase have gone through and the removal van is booked for 8 o’clock tomorrow morning.  I can’t think that exchange of contracts and completion on the same day is very usual – just one person is holding up the chain and a lot of fingers are crossed.  They are going ahead, the removal people having said that they can keep the furniture in the van over the weekend if necessary and store it if they can’t move in yet.  I’ve said they can stay with me if they are unable to move in – though they have their families too, there won’t be a shortage of help.  I have no idea why everyone seems to have a story of an anxious and harrowing move.  I’m sure that I will not attempt to sell and buy at the same time when my turn comes, yet I suppose it’ll be a ghastly experience in one way or another.

It’s been an absurdly busy day and I didn’t sleep last night – that is, I slept for an hour and ended up having breakfast at 2 am.  I finally dozed again briefly about 5.  I’m off to bed any minute now, with little Rupert.  I hope I don’t keep him awake tonight.

Disposing of stuff that is meaningful to me is upsetting, yet I’m still determined only to keep what I really want.  One of the things I was especially pleased to find was that my childhood rocking horse is lovely – primitive in the best way, with a rope tail and attractively worn paint.  I’ve put him in my bedroom and he’s certainly a keeper.  The latest decluttering guru, whose name I can’t remember,  who says you should only keep things that give you joy, is a bit annoying – I mean, joy is a bit strong, maybe I’m just too solemn and practical – all the same, the rocking horse is certainly one of those things.