A sofa of my own

Today, in a finely choreographed display of little men, the following occurred:

1) The collection of the hire furniture;
2) The delivery of the Ikea sofas and side tables ordered yesterday; and
3) The delivery of all the rest of our belongings from Switzerland.

And they all turned up at 8am.

And refused any tea all day. (I'm used to English workmen saying "If you're making one, love...". They even refused a beer. Very odd).

I have unpacked the kitchen but then lost all hope. Bridgjo says we can turn the East Wing, which we don't currently use, into a storage facility for the next 3 years, and not actually unpack at all. However, I am hoping to make the sort of friends I can invite around for a meal, so hope that even that cavernous area is furnished at least with a rug and comfortable chair by the time guests come by. Of course, this would mean another trip to Ikea.

But at least now I have a sofa of my own....