High Slopes

Beyond the horizon of Hampstead Heath, in a world of art and miracles, I found myself helping Mrs M yet again. It was my 5th and last visit to her incredible house of wonders before her move early next week. This instalment was a bit different than my previous tasks for Mrs M when I was paired with my mission partner who made the light brighter and the boxes lighter.

It was still an absolute pleasure to visit lovely Mrs M, even solo. After a walk up the slope of her street, I reached the dizzy heights of her dreamed-of house. I realised there was still much packing to do - though down this road we've been so many times. We got straight to the task, first sorting and boxing items from her office: stationery, magazines, and folders. To help Mrs M succeed with a limited number of cartons, I kept asking an innocent question: "Do you think you will need this?". She ended up leaving the myriad small brochures trying to tie her to the ground, for me to put later into the recycling bin. Mrs M only kept the magazines that had anything about the Queen in them, as she was always very appreciative of Her Majesty.

At a higher altitude, on the second floor, we packed an entire bookshelf into boxes, and then we moved to another room. We found there rolls of fabric Mrs M used when she was a fashion designer. Dragged by the force of some inner tide, she decided to give out half of the rolls to charity, so I moved them to the pile of charity items in the basement.

After steps taken forwards, I sleepwalked back again to the ground floor and put out the recycling and rubbish bags, sentencing the items labelled as "waste" to a life consumed by slow decay.

Back in the basement, we were looking beyond the glory of antiques glowing in front of us to a glimpse of how valued they can be in a charity shop. We sorted things into charity, storage and recycling stacks. Mrs M wanted me to take a few items with me but I kept saying I live a rather minimalist life in my small flat. Mrs M said she wanted to become a minimalist herself when she moves to her new, smaller home to never have to through the stress of organising the big house move again.

Before heading off, Mrs M offered me a box of chocolates that wouldn't fit in my minimalist backpack. Instead, I agreed to take a few items, such as spices jars or cans of tuna that I can use up or donate - otherwise Mrs M wouldn't use them anyway.

Just when I was about to leave, Mrs M realised she misplaced her phone somewhere in the house. Encumbered forever by the desire for a mission, my hunger was still unsatisfied, so I went back upstairs to listen out for her phone's ringtone while she called her mobile from the landline. On the second floor, the ringing of the division bell had begun. "I found it!", I exclaimed, saving Mrs M yet another trip upstairs. She finally needed to rest.

Mrs M has been very strong, organising the great house move on her own. In the process, she had to endure being ill, an accident and injury, the fact that her daughter was moving too and couldn't help more, and finally the relocation of Mrs M's husband who had become increasingly unwell in the last couple of weeks. I wished her the best of luck with moving and hoped the grass would be greener in her new place.