Yesterday spent with the local bureaucrats who dream up ever more obtuse requirements and demands for the permits needed to sell the house. We still seem to be inhabiting a Faustian parallel universe when it comes to providing the planning approvals for a house that has been part of the landscape for the last two thousand years.
Returned home after a challenging day with the lovely men and women of the planning department to find the 'font' whacking away at various computer components with a large hammer . Seemingly a google search had shown that this was the only way to dispose of old computer hard drives and prevent some bright spark accessing all our stored bank account and pension details. The boyz watched the whole process from a careful distance as the 'font' worked away pieces of plastic and brass flying in every direction. At the end of the process the hard drive looked remarkably intact - maybe that's the real reason they are called hard drives.
Wilf and Digby remain in fine fettle. I don't think they have woken up to the fact that all the activity is related to another move. A constant stream of visitors to the front door has kept them happily engaged while surreptitious packing goes on all around. What they will make of it when a team of packers complete with large pantechnicon arrives on Monday remains to be seen. Let's hope the team are keen on ball games!