Goodbye Brunswick Place

Sat on my sofa, stuff all packed in boxes and I still don't feel ready to go. I see my sheep skull on top of a tower of drawers, my spider plant next to a candle lantern thing. There is still washing up to do as well. The earlier euphoria of the afternoon has evaporated into a kind of queasy exhaustion. This always happens the night before moving. I suppose after this post I'll pack the laptop away, and the next post from Bridge 39 will be from the new place. By worried about our driver for tomorrow, Ben, who seems to be incommunicado thanks to phone reception. Hopefully only phone reception. Time will tell. If there's a post from Brunswick Place tomorrow night, you'll know Ben will have disappeared and we haven't moved after all.
Last lines done.
Goodbye Brunswick Place.
Hopefully anyway.