That's right - I was White Van Man last weekend. Despite initial nerves I was soon feeling very relaxed behind the wheel and enjoying myself. I made sure I was very courteous to other drivers on the road, lest I be judged a selfish git. This courtesy wasn't all altruism: I was so high up and looking down on everyone I almost felt like all other people were my subjects and hence my kindness came more from pity than a genuine desire to do good.
I met up with two friends (subjects), Craig and Tony, in Ealing. They'd kindly agreed to help me empty our Ealing flat (which we're in the process of selling) and load the van. It was bloody tough work, frankly.
Those of us who sit behind a desk every day at work quickly forget what manual work is like and we showed ourselves up by being shattered. That said, we got the job done with minimal damages and did ourselves proud. (A wardrobe got a little broken, and only our nouse saved a sofa from falling to its doom over the stairs - other than that, no probs.)
It was a lovely sunny day. We lunched on sandwiches in the garden and I have to say I enjoyed it.
Especially playing with the tail lift on the van. That never got boring.
It was a little sad to say goodbye to Anne's and my old flat though.