It’s a long story, but the short version is that our move out of college housing was accelerated (to our surprise) and we had to do our relocation act sooner and more intensely than we had expected. Last Wednesday, the BRitish Heart Foundation took away some of our furniture, and a lucky online ‘buyer’ (we asked a nominal £10 to fill in the ‘price’ blank on a form) took away our long black sofa. Thursday a crew picked up our boxed goods and some furniture and deposited it in two storage units just beyond the ring road. Friday we began transporting our remaining goods to our new residence pro tempore and slept here for the first time. Yesterday we made multiple trips to and from James Street, pushing ourselves past the breaking point, and slept here again. I think we have the hang of the sleeping part. This morning I went to church in my new local congregation (St Andrew’s, Headington, though I expect to visit Holy Trinity on occasion), and made a single round trip to take care of our bicycles and to gather up some slipped-through-the-cracks daily use items. Still so much to do… I described moving homes as the process wherein the closer you get to the end, the further you are from the end — that is, at a certain point you enter the interminable ‘What will we do with this? What even is it? Oh, it’s that’ phase, where each reduction of the apparent total amount of gubbish is nullified by the ambiguity of the stuff’s status (and often your emotional investment in it). It’s going to be a long month, especially cos I have a sermon, an academic essay, and a job interview (and should finalise applications for a couple other posts).