With only 29 days until we move we had a really relaxing weekend with no jobs towards moving getting done at all. On Saturday evening we had tickets for a Westlife concert. I guess attending a boyband concert is one of those ''once in a lifetime... is more than enough" experiences. Certainly the showmanship of Westlife themselves made for an entertaining evening. As somebody who could never be considered a fan though I felt like an agnostic in a cathedral- people around me were responding as though this was some sort of religious ceremony and I was failing to feel the mysterious power that was driving them to this fervour.At one point as the opening bars of a song began a woman a little way to my left collapsed sobbing into her friend's arms as she swayed to the music. I'm sure the song must have carried some emotional significance to her but it only served to strengthen the sensation that this was a private members club that required absolute emotional devotion from its followers.
More amazing than the fanatical devotion was the fight that broke out. It came from nowhere. One moment everybody around me was swaying to a ballad. The next, a punch went flying and within seconds half a dozen guys had joined in. By the time the security had pushed their way through there was a scrum of punches and kicks. All this at a Westlife concert! The cause of the fight remains a complete mystery.
From the Westlife concert we ambled into the city centre and spent an enjoyable couple of hours in the casino - actually managing to leave whilst still up enough to have paid for the night out.
Leaving the casino we deliberated on whether or not to go for one last drink before going home. As we were thinking this over we watched the police breaking up another fight and using four vans to take away the various miscreants. We decided against another drink - who knows, maybe one more would have been all we needed to join the crowds that thought a Saturday night rumble was part of the fun of going out. Finally, in the queue for the taxi, following a string of abuse between groups of children who looked about fourteen years old, another fight started - fortunately it gave us time to grab the taxi of the main protagonists as they slugged it out and make our way safely home. I don't know if it will turn out to be a universal problem but in the taxi ride home we agreed that it seemed extremely unlikely that the village we are moving to in Spain has Saturday night rumbles as a feature of the three local bars.
With 29 days to go the time pressure is beginning to feel slightly more accute. Amongst jobs still to do we need to:
Sell two cars; find a tenant for our house; inform the water, gas and electric companies of our move; inform the city council of the move for poll tax purposes; cancel the phone and television; cancel the TV license payment; continue to pack the remaining half of the house; dismantle some furniture for the tip; receive money being drawn down from our mortgage; transfer funds both to our Spanish account and to the landlord's account to cover August. All this with still a further three weeks of work to go.
Today is however my last chance to experience the NHS as I have a wisdom tooth extracted - and I'm sure when I choose to count back as the anaesthetic is administered it will be counting back from 29 - it's just a shame I can't wake up 29 days later with all of the moving taken care of.
