I sell my dressing table. At last. But when it's taken away I realise how attached I am. I bought it from my uncle's neighbour in the late 1990's when I moved to Christchurch from London. Uncle Trevor used to do up wooden furniture. He also used to help people find things they needed. When I moved into College Ave he brought round a table for the kitchen cubby hole and one for the hall telephone. He also fixed a few door handles. I was 10 days overdue with Kahu and the day after friends dropped Mark and I with all our stuff, I went to hospital to be induced, three times. I wasn't able to participate in sorting anything. A day later I was admitted to get the baby out.
So Trevor pottered round sorting things and my friends Judith and Karen unpacked and cleaned while I recovered from a Caesarian. The dressing table was part of that history and of my life in the house. I don't regret selling it but when it was taken away I heard one more drawer on my past close.
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| Kahu admiring his first short back and sides in the dressing table mirror |
Meanwhile it's been quiet at the section. I drop in to feed Pierre and pick flowers for a friend's surprise 60th.
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