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I’ve never been one to criticize Gill for the number of times she has moved, since I went to four different schools before finishing high school and have lived in different countries as well as cities. Gill got the travel bug early in her childhood. She takes packing up and moving in stride.

The last major move she made was done in style when she and a strong male friend tied her double-sized mattress to the top of a single-sized car and drove 60 miles in  a pelting rain/lightning storm. At times, the mattress began sliding down, covering part of the windshield, forcing them to keep their arms out of the window in a futile attempt to brace the floppy thing.I understand there are still plastic bits and strings littering the 401. There may have also been a couple of human appendages there…I didn’t ask. Certainly, a great deal of peril was involved. Needless to say, they needn’t have bothered with the theatrics since, by the time the mattress arrived here, it was so wet it went directly into the garbage.

I understand that, for her upcoming move to Bristol from London, she has enlisted the help of yet another unsuspecting strong young man with a car. She has already begun to collect boxes in which to pack her stuff. This is a rare and extremely foresighted move on her part…she who packs for a cross-the-pond hop with one pair of underwear, some flip-flops (even at Christmas) and her laptop. “I don’t need many clothes, Ma. I can’t recall the last time your house was cited by any Parisian fashion house as THE harbinger of the latest style. And besides, I can ‘steal’ stuff from you and L’il Sis…or Crazy D if it’s the winter, schlumpy, ‘everybody looks fat bundled in down parkas’ season. Fair point.

I am slightly concerned, though, that all of her other friends, the ones already storing boxes of her stuff in Glasgow, other parts of London and possibly even Cornwall, will get wind of her latest move and insist that, since she is finally going to be living alone, she retrieve her crap, uh, stuff. Although realistically, if things operate the same way my house does, those boxes have long since been amalgamated into the general ‘swamp’ that is the storage area of their basements. I use the term ‘swamp’ not because any of the basements are wet, but because it wouldn’t surprise me at all to see an alligator or poisonous snake crawl out of mine. Not a problem — cuts down on security costs.

I know that Gill truly believes she is not a hoarder, a collector of things, but I think she needs a reality check. I know for a fact that she is a collector and hoarder of books, Birkenstock shoes in all of their iterations (clogs, sandals etc.), anything to do with owls and penguins. I just pray that, when she arrives at her new digs, she hasn’t smuggled in a live owl or penguin. I am not taking bets.