I write to you from our new flat, which is slowly taking shape around me after a gruelling week of moving. It took a village - Gaby's uncle was an absolute hero throughout, installing a whole new lighting rig on his own, armed only with a stepladder and a piece of wire; Adny painstakingly put up reams of wallpaper; two painters went without sleep for three days straight to do a crude yet spirited job in both flats; some "men with ven" came and carted away our heavier items of furniture; and a guy came to deep-clean our mattress, although I might have been hallucinating at that point.
I spent the time carting an abundance of stuff back and forth between the two flats, which only threw into relief the stark contrast between the two neighbourhoods, and made me glad to be leaving the dog-pit behind for good. Anyway, it's all shaping up and now we just need to worry about minor things like storage, carpets and plumbing in stoves - it won't be long before the barbecues flow freely, and I might have a swim today as a treat.
Work has been galloping along too - we may be off to Silicon Valley shortly, which I would be well up for - and Gaby's back to juggling a full-time masters with the infuriating demands of the corporate ranks she's currently shilling to. Much to be done, but I deliver as always on the compilation front, plus my phrase of the week - "to sell one's fish" - means to present one's views and argue one's case, as it were. I've no call to use it, but I like the imagery.
That will be all for now - speak soon for a grand tour!
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