Trip Start Sep 09, 2004
394Trip End Ongoing
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I caught up with Chike too but not the Mannion. She's been suspiciously elusive, working all sorts of strange hours at the local care home. Our time will come.
Yesterday I moved house. Actually, from vehicle to house - a slight upgrade. This job provides me with random slots of time at random moments during the night, anything from twenty minutes to just over an hour. It just doesn't seem ongoingly practical to crawl in and out the back of a van all night. So I decided to move. Actually, I hadn't thought all that much about it until I stumbled across a small window of opportunity. The little Chicken has been itching to move in with the girlies up at the hostel for ages but had courteously offered to stay put at the house until they find another tenant. Bingo. 'The fastest house-hunting expedition yet,' as Shiny put it.
I moved in last night after a few celebratory beers with the feathered one. This is much better, though it will spoil me rotten. It seems strange to say but I now reside in complete and utter luxury: I have a bedroom. A real room. My own room. It's like being a teenager again but in a house full of strangers (like being a teenager again.) Instead of having to lug a green bag and a red plastic supermarket basket from the van over to a dirty communal kitchen at every mealtime, I now walk just five steps from my room to the kitchen where I have a cupboard to put my food in. I even have a small shelf in the fridge and a space to put my boots and shoes. There's even a washing machine and a dryer that joyfully spring into action when you press the 'on' button instead of demanding coins from you first. When I stand in the kitchen to wash dishes or make tea, Bang! I'm slapped silly with the view from the window: the jagged contours of the snow-capped Remarkables trailing off into the distance, and the warm, undulating carpet-like coating of the Cecil and Walter Peaks sitting monumentally, almost hauntingly over Lake Wakatipu. The view from the comfy sofa outside on the balcony upstairs is even better. It's like sitting before a huge, magical painting of paradise. All you have to do is open your eyes. And it's completely free!
It's also soothingly peaceful here. Apart from the odd melodic banter between the fantails dancing in the garden, there is absolutely nothing. No road noise or vehicle noise, people, work, kiddy or animal. Nothing. There can't be many people who get up in the morning and make a cup of tea as the scenery right outside the kitchen window dominates the moment. The kind that massages the soul and sets you up for a perfect day, where you spend most of it with a hearty, refreshing smile wrapped around your head. I feel so, so lucky. It almost feels like I've come home.