There is no other way to put it; it's been an absolute bugger of a few days. Moving sucks. It sucks like a sucky thing that has been sucking sour stuff and is feeling really sucky.

In other words, it sucks a lot.

I have just worked out that this is Move Number 32 or something ridiculous. How on earth did that happen? More to the point, how did I collect so much china along the way? I have had to come to the realisation that I don't just have a shoe issue, I also have a kitchenware issue. And a bed linen issue. 

At least when people stay over they will have nice sheets.

I have also had to come to a rather more serious realisation.

I am not very good at asking for help. I'm very, very good at telling other people what they should do and bossing them around - but when I need help myself?

Absolutely rubbish.

But lately - well, I have had to change that behaviour. Because I have needed help, and I have needed it quite badly. I have needed emotional support. I have needed to be able to talk things through. I've needed pure physical support in terms of moving heavy stuff. And as difficult as it has been for the proudest woman in the world to ask for said assistance - once I managed to ungraciously start to open up, then I realised it wasn't as difficult as I thought it would be.

Because when it comes down to it, if you are incredibly fortunate, as I know I am, you will have people who are always willing to assist.

I am massively grateful for the realisation - at 41 mind you - that to ask for a hand is not weakness.

I am even more grateful for those people who without fanfare or the need for recognition or reward have helped me.

Thank you.

Now back to the boxes. And possibly - well, possibly a garage sale.