Since the fire, with the precision of a military campaign;life has become a series of logistical challenges to be catagorised, organised and timetabled.
We move from flat,to work, to house, to flat; in the slow dance of necessity; collecting clothes, sorting laundry and searching for those things you never realise are vital, until of course you need them.
I have become the packing maven; shaking, folding and smoothing garments to swell the bags with weekday working wardrobes; co ordinating mix and match outfits that stay crease free, stress free, and take the effort out of 6am dressing.
Our garden is in Spring bloom, and our weekend washing billows upon the line; but with no water, power or sanitation, it is a mere veneer of the suburban living we once knew. To spend time at the house, cats on laps, quilts wrapped tight against the bitter cold; necessity forces preplanned 'comfort breaks' or the decision to slowly dehydrate.
The toads in their tank hum in the darkness, unperturbed by absence of warmth and light, whilst the cats soft footed, have claimed squatters rights on empty beds. There is an air of sudden abandonment which is sensed as soon as key turns in lock; bringing a sadness to a home that has become a cold harbour.