This weekend has been rather unusual, specifically Sunday. After all the drama that occured in the 4 hours after seeing Amy (my Nintendo DS works again btw, now that it has successfully dried out) and after the 10 hours of blissful sleep I was recruited into assisting my mum in phase 1 of the “RENOVATE THE FAMILY HOME” project.
Phase 1 involves the relocating of my mother from her room (and subsequently all of her belongings and various other crap) into my old room. Not only did this involve dismantling her 100 year old cast iron/hard wood bed (absolute son-of-a-bitch that was!) but also clearing out the crap from around it. I wish I had a camera… . The dust was simply spectacular. I think that bed had not been moved in the 28 years they have lived in the house. Even when they decorated, they decorated around, and under, the bed. I found £2.65 in loose change (which according to bylaw 16 clause 3a: all money on the floor belongs to Sebastian) as well as a watch, couple earrings, necklace, some unmentionable items and cat pooh. We dismantled the bed, and arranged for the various parts to be moved downstairs.
This is where it got fun. The bed consisted of several key parts. The headboard and footboard were connected to each other by a cast iron I-beam, which was bolted in at either end. Resting on top of this was a hardwood spring-box. This basically consists of a wooden frame, 6ft wide by 6ft 6 long, with cross members, steel wire and steel coils filling in the insides. The mattress would then rest on this spring box. Of course with older mattresses, which werent sprung, the bed provided all the support needed. The headboard, footboard and bedstead supports all came off easily enough, and were transported downstairs very easily. But when it came to the spring box, we couldn’t manage at all to get it down the stairs and into the lounge. (The house is a 2bed terrace, the stairs enter into the lounge at a right angle, which isn’t exactly spacious). We tried for 2 hours, trying every single angle, approach, dimension and we couldn’t manage to get it in. So unfortunately, we had to destructively dismantled the spring box. However, all is not bad, the bedstead is still in good condition, and if we put some slats across it, we have a proper bed! So after all this, its been decided that the bed will live again with the family at my Dad’s house in France. Might even end up being my bed… won’t that be weird!
So yeah, moving my mum into my “lair” was unbelievably weird. The room has ceased to be “Seb’s Room/Lair/Cave/Rock” and now is mum’s “Guest Room/Study”. I moved her mattress onto my bed and she has now set herself up to sleep in there.
Its all rather weird as the whole “no going back” thing finally set in the second I saw mum setting up my old/her new bed. No longer will that room be mine. My home for the last 23 years is now just another room. Makes me sad in a way. When i left the house, I did utter a little goodbye room under my breath before we pulled away. I am a right sentimental git at times!
Am I sad? Not really. The bonus of the situation is that I can’t go back. I am going to be living under my own roof from now on. Freedom! <Insert kilt raising image here>
After all, If i was living at home still, I wouldn’t have this awesome job, a HUGE television, the opportunity to sit in my underpants in my lounge whenever I want, my comfy chairs and the ability to cook whatever I want, whenever I want. Its for the best, and I am definitely sure I made the right decision back in September 07.
Edit: Note to self, get a mobile phone with a half decent camera so I can document these things better!
Posted in Peronal Reflection
