There was a customer feedback form…
I arrived back from the rubbish dump with a bag of poultry corn, some protective feet to go under the new bed so it won’t scratch the floor, a mattress protector and a big smile on my face.
Mrs Albion came down the front stairs with more rubbish, looking exhausted.
It was Noon. We had been unpacking boxes and furniture for six straight hours.
We would not be finished for seven more.
My brothers arrived in a taxi from the airport as I was cutting an Australian ensemble bed base into small enough bits that I could get it to the dump— ensemble bed bases come in one piece in Australia, and it wouldn’t go up our stairs. I had to buy bolt cutters to cut the springs.
My last trip to the tip took an hour, because Arsenal were playing at home.
The truck was due between 9am and 9.30am.
I arrived home from dropping Mrs Albion at her breakfast meeting at 8am and was cleaning up the lounge room, ready for its new furniture, when the window went blue. A truck the size of our house turned on its side was slowly crawling down our street.
They had arrived.
There were two consignments in the truck. Two enormous timber containers took up the front half. The other half held some blankets, a few ropes and a large, bed-sized box en-route to a Mews House in the West End. Obviously the truck that might be coming to our area was actually our truck.
An hour, and a small repair to the apprentice’s fingertip later, we were drinking fizzy water and eating poppyseed cake in the kitchen when they handed me the forms to sign. I signed off the arrival of the goods — including the missing kitchen box that was meant to have come over two years ago — and turned the page.
There was a customer feedback form.
I named names!
Copyright © Damian Clarke, 2019. Original post first published on the Our Albion blog, 24 December 2006.