The great furniture swindle of 2008

So we received our furniture delivery from home on Sunday which was very exciting. In principle only though, because we are trying to fit the contents of a two-bed Victorian terrace garden flat into an ultra modern one-bed high rise apartment with a balcony.

Being the careful planners that we are (ha!), PD and I decided before we left that we would probably have to store some of our stuff in Dubai anyway. So we took the option with our removalists to be able to specify which boxes should be delivered to us and which stored. It seemed like a good idea at the time, because storage in Dubai (sorry, in Sharjah) is a lot cheaper than Big Yellow Storage or whomever in London, and at least we could go and visit the storage facility and take things out or put them back.

So far, so organised, except that the removalists, when filling in their sheets of inventory for each box, were a bit too brief in their descriptions. Thus, the contents of 2,000 cubic feet (or, as it rather quaintly says on the form, ‘cuft’) of stuff translated to about 50 boxes are described simply as, ‘clothes’ or ‘kitchen stuff’ or, ‘books and clothes’ or ‘ornaments’ – you get my drift. The dawning realisation that we had to effectively guess what was really in each box before stipulating to the removalists which ones were to be delivered effected a sort of procrastinating fug over me and my dear husband. As such, by the time the deadline loomed for submission (ie. the phone call telling us the 2,000 cuft had cleared customs) any clear memory of exactly what was where had somewhat faded.

Sunday – which shall now be known as ‘lucky-dip day’ or perhaps, ‘F&P’s-turkeys-come-home-to-roost day’ – saw about 1,000 worth of the 2,000 cuft delivered to the apartment. PD, who works from home (lucky sod), was there to take the delivery while I was toiling away at the office feeling shattered. I arrived home to what can only be described as utter and complete carnage.

I fail to understand exactly why it is that we decided to ship, let alone KEEP the following useless items:

• About 20 spent candle ’stubs’ of various grades and colours
• Two corroded plastic trestles from Homebase which are apparently used for sawing pieces of wood
• Some screw in lightbulbs for the kitchen in the London flat that are not even standard size
• A remote control for a stereo that we no longer own
• A full and unopened box of Kleenex tissues
• A couple of cr*ppy old handbags of mine with broken straps that I wouldn’t be caught dead using
• A cornucopia of cat toys that were rejected in the first instance back in London. These can be added to the expensive ‘activity centre’ we bought in Dubai which is also ignored and now serves as a kitsch stand for the iPod docking station
• A million books

None of the bits I really wanted were in there, except perhaps for a framed wedding picture that managed to somehow miraculously find its way into a box marked ‘clothes’. The other nasty discovery we made was just how filthy and shabby our cream Ikea sofa is, and how disgustingly dirty our two cream deep pile rugs are. It seems that not only were we living in a ‘charming’ Victorian terraced flat, we were also existing like moles in the half dark. I also now HATE our bedside tables, and if I never saw another rammekin again I would not be unduly distressed.

*Now here is where I take almost full and entire responsibility for vehemently insisting that we pack everything and sort it out later.*

There you go, PD – I’ve admitted it!

If you are planning to move abroad, then know this: be ruthless with all your belongings, throw out EVERYTHING you don’t want and ALL you’re not sure of. Otherwise, when the container arrives weeks later you’ll be stuck sorting through stuff you forgot you ever owned and remember you never cared about. Here endeth the lesson.

Flickster. x