When I first looked at my old place in Waterloo seven years ago, I was told I would have to move again when the Waterloo Redevelopment Project called for it, so I had been preparing for this possibility, saving boxes from every appliance so they could be safely moved.
Then, I really liked where I lived, in the walk-ups, and didn’t think much of the previous Liberal state government’s plans to move half a thousand of us for a net long-term gain of a measly few dozen social housing places. When Labor promised to stop privatisation of public housing before the last state election, and then said it would be proceeding with the privatisation of the Waterloo Public Housing estate after the election, I was disappointed. But when they said their new plan would double the amount of social housing in the area, I figured that had more merit. I like having a roof over my head, and if the hassle of moving house would give someone else a roof over their head, that seemed worthwhile.
I started throwing out old clothes when I got notice of being in Stage One. I thought I was safe from relocating for six months, but then my relocation officer said they’d found a place nearby they thought would really suit me. I was busy in rehearsals for a show, and said I couldn’t possibly even begin packing until that show was over. “Oh, just have a look at it,” they said. So I did, and really liked the vibe of it, and signed up, on the understanding the actual move wouldn’t be for a month, a fortnight after the show wrapped up.
The new place looked quite sizeable, for places look bigger with nothing in them, and my previous place seemed smaller than it was, because all my stuff was in it. Oops. I had to eject some furniture to fit in a more compact space. On the one hand, perhaps I should have used the tape measure before I signed up, but on the other hand, I do really like the vibe of my new place. So, after the move, there was no room for all the boxes used to transport appliances, but also no need for them anymore, so out they went. Out went the show costumes I had used in my thirties and forties, because I’m 64 now, and the costumes are no longer fitting, in any sense … Out went The Goon Show cassette tapes, because The Goon Shows are all online now, and I no longer have a cassette player. Basically, I’ve got less junk that I can’t use.
The removalists (courtesy of Homes NSW) were very impressive, a team of four that just kept going for hours, loading in one end and unloading at the other, including placing 42 boxes of comics in the right order into four bookcases.
I’m happily settled into my new place, and glad that the relocation process is now behind me.
