Moving Day

My middle daughter and her partner moved into their first home yesterday.

It is a tiny renovated cottage in Cockatoo, a leafy place on the fringe of the 'burbs', in the Dandenong Ranges. It will need more work to get it up and running properly, but that matters nought to them. It has three tiny bedrooms, a lounge, living, kitchen area with a pot belly stove, and a bathroom with a cupboard in it for the washing machine (the laundry!). There is a covered deck at the rear, which was probably the clincher on the house.

In a world where the young want so much so early, I am proud of their determination to buy what they can afford. She is doing her PHD in Psychology and he is now working as a sound technician and stage manager in a large theatre restaurant. A one year old bubby and two lively dogs makes up their contented little family.

How close would you drive your parent's van to the power pole?

They pulled together his brothers, and her sister and partner to do the move from Watsonia, about an hour away. We were thankfully spared that end of it, but were elected to put an electric fence around the derelict wire one at the rear to keep the dogs in. My farmer fella knows all about such things, and had the necessary unit to power up the doggies.

Once it was up and running with the power switched on, the dogs took numerous shocks as they explored their new back yard, with yodelling squeals pealing through the hills, and all the neighboring dogs taking the call up in sympathy. Poor Hunter the boxer retreated under the house to recuperate, making his mum very concerned and just a bit guilty. Better than taking off through everyone's backyard, we all commented.

Poor stressed Seeker wanting out

They have factored in a new boundary fence into their budget, so that should be installed very soon.

I had made the sandwiches and cake for lunch, to fuel up all the flagging energies, so was pretty popular, and my man was sucked into the moving. He's a bit sore today, but he amazes me with his energy and enthusiasm, considering he's 20 plus years older than most of them.

My grandson, happily oblivious to the activity around him.

Telling them to watch Wendy Harmer's "Stuff", on ABC TV, where she wanders through people's lives chiding them about their accumulating unnecessary junk, we did a runner late in the afternoon, leaving them to their piles of boxes, bags and disconnected furniture. The baby was due to be delivered home in half an hour, so his mum would really be up against it. Asher is just walking, and will enjoy climbing over everything and exploring his new home.

You can't beat the cosiness of a pot belly fire.