So, my piano is gone. After thirty-one years of bonding and companionship, we have sadly parted company. This morning when I came downstairs, it looked quite forlorn, and I felt really sad. The empty cabinets in the dining room bore witness to the fact that something is afoot. That lovely, but sad song, “Time to say goodbye,” popped into my mind, and I remembered my school pupils singing it to me, thirteen years ago, on my last day of teaching music in Johannesburg. There wasn’t a dry eye in the house, and I felt the same sort of emotion today.
Just after 8-30, the removals van arrived, and soon my home was a hive of activity. All I could hear above the cheerful but very loud voices of the work team, was the sound of bubble-wrap sheeting being cut, and adhesive tape being pulled. Soon my piano was cosily wrapped up, and all that needed to be done was to take off the legs and pedal lyre.
When my other piano was delivered in Florida, it took only two men to bring it in and assemble it. They had a special trolley with wheels, which made it much easier. Here, we had six men plus the foreman, and they still battled to get it out of the house. There was much huffing and puffing and chanting too. “Hai-wetu…..Hai-wetu…..Hai-wetu!” …… the Zulu equivalent of “Heave-ho, me hearties.”
Well, now they and my piano are gone, along with my dining room suite, spare bedroom suite, TV + cabinet, two standing lamps, and sewing machine. The shipment should arrive at our daughter’s house early next week. I’m suddenly starting to believe that this move is for real.
I wish you all a great weekend.