We were dropped off near his flat. We had been to lunch with some friends and it had lasted rather a long time. It was now about 5 p.m. It was a rather lovely lunch and the people are very nice and easy. They have a three-year-old boy who is a really nice kid.

At the traffic lights, I pause and say, “See you later.”

“Don’t you want to come and see my flat?”

“No, not really.”

“But you could help me with moving things.”

I guess the look on my face (probably one of horror), said it all.

“OK, you don’t have to. I can do it myself.”

I go home and make a cup of tea as I’m really thirsty. I have a lot to do. I have already, the day before, reorganised my wardrobe to allow space for his clothes and put a lot of clothes to either be thrown away or, if they were good condition designer clothes, to be sold. Now I’ve started on the other wardrobe – but there’s lots to do – and I haven’t even started on shoes yet!

But, it’s no good. The thought of him filling the car with clothes, then making the trip to the new house, then unloading everything – on his own – makes me feel guilty. Yesterday, he had a couple of guys with a van helping. Tomorrow, again. But, today, he is alone.

I message him, asking him if he would like me to come and help. I really don’t want to do this but my guilt wins the day. He replies with an “if you want” but it’s not as simple as that, is it?

I go. He has already partly loaded the car. We finish loading it and go to the new flat. We unload things (suitcases stuffed with clothes, shopping bags full of plates and dishes and other stuff). He has two clothes racks for the clothes to be hung up and several boxes ready to take the clothes from the suitcases.

He stuffs the boxes and the bags go on the floor in the corner of what will be the dining room.

Back to his old flat, we stuff the suitcases again and also take a load of hanging stuff. Back to the new flat and unload, stuff boxes and hang the hanging stuff. And again back to his old flat with, this time, just hanging clothes.

Whilst we are doing this, I am thinking 2 things:

1. The new flat is not nearly as big as I thought it was. In fact, I’m now worried that we won’t fit everything in! Of course, I remember feeling the same about the perfect-flat-on-the-perfect-street so console myself with the thought that, once everything has a place to go, it will be fine.

Still, it’s a bit worrying. What once seemed huge now seems, at best, a comfortable fit.

2. I remember very well why, for the last 6 or so moves, I get people to do everything. Pack, haul boxes and suitcases, lift heavy things. I AM NOT doing the same as him. People will be doing all this work, not me!

We finish at something to 9. I am totally exhausted. I want a shower and a beer. His place still has loads of stuff in it. But he, too, is tired, wants a shower and a beer. We both shower in our respective places and then meet up for a beer. Which is refreshing, to say the least but after two we are so tired we just want bed and sleep.

The next day, Monday, is a public holiday here. We are going to look for a kitchen. We need to go quite early because we need someone to help with the planning. F, of course, has all the floor plan and dimensions, including where the water, gas and electrical sockets are on the walls.

So, we get up quite early and have a quick coffee at a bar and then off to the place.

We book an “agent” and then go and wander around the store to pick the kitchen types we like and look at wardrobes as he needs one in the bedroom.

Our agent becomes available and we go and sit down and start planning the kitchen with the “kid”. It goes on for a long time. It’s not quite as easy as it’s not a square kitchen and things are difficult to fit. There are lots of “modifications” that will need to be done.

Eventually, we have two options that we like. The cost is at the lower end of my expectations. Whilst we are there, we add the wardrobes and a bed base. The order is “on hold” as we need to get a surveyor round to check all the dimensions before they will agree to accept the order and fit it all in. We do this.

We then go to IKEA to have a quick look at some of the units he has chosen for other parts of the flat, to hold other things. It’s quick because a) we both dislike IKEA and b) there are just too many people walking around like they’re on holiday and, generally, being in the way. We don’t buy anything – he’ll buy stuff later.

We go home. So far, this has taken over three and a half hours!

He has the guys coming back to move the rest of his stuff and I have lessons and I have to take the dogs for a walk and put away the dry washing and stuff. No sorting out for me today.

After my lessons he messages me to ask if we should go for a beer. I agree.

I get there first as he is doing the last delivery with the guys. He comes soon after with a couple of bags with stuff he’s leaving at my place whilst we live there for a month or two.

We drink our beer. He has, finally and officially, moved out of his flat and so, I suppose, we are, finally and officially, living together. But I only think of that now – not at the time of the beer!

Over our beers, he starts suggesting things.

“Once we have the kitchen in and I’ve started putting up the units we have, we can start moving your stuff.”

“But, I’m going to get the movers in.”

“Yes, for the big furniture but we can move the other stuff ourselves. I’m not trying to tell you what you should do but we can do a box an evening.”

But, of course, he IS trying to tell me what to do. I remember the day before and I AM NOT doing that.

“It will save some money.”

“Let’s see what the quotes are, first.”

He reiterates that, obviously, it’s up to me (which it most certainly is NOT, if he had his way) but he really thinks it would be better.

It’s not. However, I don’t argue. Sometimes it’s just better to go ahead and get it all done – in the way that I want!

Let’s see.