Love in a box.

In the interests of rent reduction we've been replacing the landlord's furniture, crockery & cutlery etc. Washing machine... check! toaster....check! vacumn cleaner ....check! kettle...check.

Still to go - a fridge, some tables, some beds.

On Thursday we drove to SeasideCity and bought lots of stuff (see above) some of which we added to our load at the removalists, which arrived today.

From Hearttown came five tea chests, four book boxes, one bed and one picture.
From Seaside City came a dining room table and six chairs and a bookcase.

I found a cassette tape from the CJC enquiry. An interview with Mr Holt and Mr Holt (no relation) of the Criminal Justice Commission. Gosh. I still remember the sea breeze consoling my shoulders and the cold concrete table and the way I felt like I was in a Twin Peaks homage and knowing it was useless even as I answered their questions. Mr Holt and Mr Holt (no relation) and me. On tape. What a relic.

And then there's all that love from long ago. And the activist's handbook from Jabiluka. And the t-shirt (Mahogony Gliders don't take sugar) and there's my grandfather's war medals and my grandmother's pearls. Precious. Relics.

There's a mix tape (of course!) and a brooch, and a boxed set of Winnie the Pooh. There are paintings and posters and scraps of notepaper and the handwritten epic poem we wrote in the early nineties and my uniform that I was supposed to give back and ...

How I miss you tonight, you people who know me from years ago.
So much love, in a box.