Monday, 7 February 2000 |
at twenty-two, I did the math and counted weeks—to say “guess what, my birthday (twenty-three) will fall on Transfer Day.” in our program, each six weeks new bodies joined the fun and we sent home the boys and girls whose British time was done and so, to make sure there was room for old folks to train new, on one long day in each six weeks we shuffled who’s with who but I was sure this transfer day I wouldn’t have to move ‘cause every other Transfer Day before, I had removed. so, Saturday, it came and went, and held no moving news then Sunday came—we got the call enough to make me blue both me and Mandy had to move, from Yorkshire to the Lakes tomorrow morn, no time to find a ride, for goodness sake with speed we packed and called goodbyes to all our Yorkshire friends dragged baggage down five flights of stairs across the street and then up more stairs to the platform where we could catch a train to Wigan, and switch lines from there to Kendal (there was rain) to our shock, in Wigan there were two train depots to meet at speed we dragged our heavy lives straight down a Wigan street baggage has this way of gaining weight the more it’s dragged by Kendal, strength had vanished, and our suitcase rollers sagged but we were there—and knew not where to find this brand new flat so tired and sore, on depot porch, I sank down with a splat and cried. that’s when the taxi came the fellow had our key he brought us home (more stairs? oh yes) then left us to our tea we washed, unpacked, and found the time to write notes to our boss my note explained my birthday trek one hundred miles across I said, “I’ll fight you, tooth and nail before I move again, imagine doing such a thing on your birthday, my friend” line count: 56 |