Getting out the suitcases

This is not easy. The suitcases are stored under the eaves. This is a stupid place to store them. I wish I would find somewhere else to stuff the wretched bags, out of sight, at a moment's notice because someone's calling round, and at that instant there's nowhere to put them. Except under the eaves.

Anyhow, under the eaves I climb. First problem: the floor is not a proper floor. It's just a few squares of hardboard laid across the plumbing pipes. Where the plumbing pipes go I have no idea. Someone's washbasin. Or our sink. There is a large creeping brown stain across the ceiling to the landing. That's probably us, even though we've blamed the neighbour. More specifically, it's probably me, kneeling on the water pipes, losening the joints, grovelling about in the darkness trying to extract the last wheelie bag.

The second reason why storing the bags under the eaves is a stupid idea is that the toilet waste pipe is propped up with a CD case. For that particular history of misery, you'll need to check out Grit's Day. I can't bear to recall the horrors here. Anyway, last time I knocked over the CD case and brought the toilet waste pipe off I had to sit there, scrunched and hunched in darkness, shouting to Squirrel from my position behind the wall and sending my voice through the empty bathroom and miraculously through the closed door too. 'GET DADDY!' I'm shouting, louder and hoarser each time. Squirrel comes to the bathroom door, finally detecting sound. Thank goodness someone's up here, I'm thinking. Because no-one would come and find me, wondering where mummy's gone. I could be stuck here in the eaves for hours. Or at least until someone wants to use the toilet.

And the final reason why it's a bad idea getting the bags out at all is that when they come out, all the kids sense that we've got travel coming up again. Tiger starts wailing 'I don't want to go!' and Shark starts complaining that it's not Australia, and Squirrel dives straight into her clothes basket and pulls out the most unsuitable items she can find and declares she's not leaving the country without them. Ever.

Oh joy. Preparation.