:: getting there

Faye's gradually working her way through the morass of paperwork and phone calls. Her backpack has arrived safely via air freight; she just had to call the official, who faxed her a customs form, then talk to the official for half an hour, fill in the customs form and fax it back, then talk to the official again to organise a delivery date. I think she's just about co-ordinated the activities of Lothian and Borders Police and several departments/branches of Lloyd's Bank regarding her stolen cards and chequebook. And I'm pretty sure she's mailed off her application form for a visa renewal. She's organised her start date at her new job and discussed details of her duties with the other carer.

She's also getting over her jetlag, and is very cheerful and positive despite all the hassles she's had to wade through.

We had a nice day yesterday -- I got my hair done (always a treat) and she took her car in to have its wheels aligned, then we met up and she treated me to lunch. After that we had a trawl through the charity shops of Morningside before I headed off to work.

There was a tremendous rainstorm in Edinburgh yesterday, complete with thunder and lightning. The building I work in has a glass roof, so the noise of rain hammering down was tremendous. Reminded me of listening to rain on the crib roof. Ah, the summers of yesteryear!

Anyway, Faye has an extra day, so she leaves for the south on Sunday. She's planning to stay overnight at Whitby, and then spend Monday night at Banbury. It's close to Oxford but not as expensive.

In other news I'm enjoying my new Palm in an extremely nerdy way. The whanau should be grateful though: I'm putting in everyone's birthdays, with a seven-day advance reminder. It's a chore entering all the data, but it will be worth it. I've already found it much, much more useful than paper diaries etc, but in such nerdy ways I'm not even going to tell you.

Faye wants one now: she's downsized from a fat Filofax to a skinny diary, a skinny address book and a skinny shopping list, but a PDA would be even skinnier. Trouble is, the old computer I gave her doesn't have USB. So now she's thinking of a lap-top plus PDA. I think with her mobile lifestyle (and a fresh desire to lighten her luggage load) that set-up would be perfect. Some places she doesn't have room to set up the computer, and it's a clunky old thing anyway.

At one point, Faye was looking for something in her suitcase. She sat back and looked round at all her stuff and sighed. "I think I might have a disorder," she said.

But the thing is, all our family has the same disorder. I know I do. When I came to this country I had a backpack and a small suitcase, and I sent over a tea-chest by sea freight. ("What've you got in this, rocks?" puffed the delivery man as he hauled the chest up the stairs. In fact I did have rocks in it, including a beautiful white river rock that John gave me.) Now I have a three-bedroom house with ample storage, two sheds and loft space and I have an amazing amount of stuff squirrelled away. So much in fact that I lose track of things. Like my Christmas stuff: somewhere I've got a box filled with ornaments, fairy lights, wrapping paper and Bertie's antlers. Can't find it anywhere.

Trevor certainly has the disorder. I asked him once if I could get him a model kit for a birthday or whatever. He took me through to his study and flung open the cupboard doors. There were shelves and shelves of unopened model kits. Mum .... well, we've all seen inside your wardrobe! Full marks for tidy storage. Pinky's flat is so tiny (and so tidy) that you wouldn't think she could have the disorder, but she's confessed to having a big cupboard downstairs. So there you go. It's genetic.