belongings

I didn't post about it at the time because I was stressed about leaving home, and pissed off at the removal company and then I was here and with Graham and it just seemed petty but at the time I was seriously pissed off with the removal company that was shifting my stuff across the hemispheres. Anyway, it's early November 2007. I have my visa, I've left my job, I'm here, there and everywhere visiting friends and relatives that I won't see for several months or more. In between all this, I managed to arrange for the removal company to deliver me some boxes so I could pack my stuff up. Unfortunately, due to a complete clash of schedules, the only day we can both manage is Tuesday 6th November. Great, sounds wonderful. Only I leave for Heathrow Airport at 8am Wednesday 7th November so not much room for stuff ups. And removal firms being removal firms they couldn't give me a time more accurate that 'between 9am and 5pm'. No worries, even if it's delivered at 5pm all my stuff is in nice piles, ready to go into boxes, it would only take me an hour or so to pack and it's all sorted. Mum's house doesn't actually have a name sign so my aunt and I painted the name onto a bit of cardboard and pinned it to the gate, just to make certain they found it. 9am... 10am... At 10.30am I rang the courier firm actually delivering the boxes. I expressed my worries that the driver wouldn't find the house and wanted to give them directions. 'Oh no, we don't need that, don't worry, he hasn't got to you yet, your stuff is still logged as being in the truck, it's shouldn't be too long now'. Just in case, I gave them my phone number to give to the driver, just in case he did get lost. At 1.30pm I rang them again. 'Has he got lost?' 'Oh no, he's just not got to you yet, don't worry'. 'It's just that I'm leaving for Australia tomorrow and I really need those boxes. Did you give him my number? No? Well, here it is again...'. At 4.30pm I rang them again. 'Where the hell's my stuff?' 'Oh, the driver knocked at 11am and there was no answer ...' 'Well I was in all day so that's not bloody true' '...so he's brought it back to the depot.' 'WHAT?!' I was understandably upset. Apparently he'd gone to a converted chapel up the road because 'it looked like a house with our name should'. Why couldn't they tell me this when I'd rung them before when the situation could have been fixed? Just thinking about it now makes my blood boil. To cap it all off, when he redelivered the stuff on the Thursday (my sainted mother packed it all for me) he did the same thing again! Thankfully our neighbour was in this time and directed him to the right house. Bloody idiot. Anyway, fast forward 4 months. It's early March 2008. After several emails telling me that my belongings were going to be in Brisbane on increasingly later dates due to the ships being delayed due to storms I get a phone call from the Australian removal group handling things at this end. Customs have a query about my forms. I explain and everything's ok. I asked how long quarantine will take and I'm told that it could be up to 4 weeks, but they'll let me know when it's on its way. It's getting closer! Fast foward to the present day. It having been a month since I last spoke to the removal company, I thought I'd better give them a ring and see what the hell is going on. 'Oh, it got put on a train to Cairns yesterday. It should be there on Thursday so if you give the depot up there a ring on Friday you can organise delivery or pickup'. Right. And you were going to tell me this when? All I want is my stuff. If I manage smooth delivery of it at the end of this week it will be a bloody miracle. I've also heard horror stories of containers leaking and stuff going all rotten and horrible so I'm now really concerned for my books and, well, everything really! Keep your fingers crossed for me...