In the pavilion this morning, as we arrived to finish seeing off the last of the equipment, a solitary blue balloon moved from side to side on the floor.
Its surface was the matt colour that occurs when a shiny skin has been stretched for a while and then slowly shrunk back, as the air seeped out of the balloon’s belly. Silently it lay on the floor, being moved by the drafts as people came in and out, but with insufficient energy to really take off and leave the carpet. It just rolled from side to side as its stuffing silently leaked out of it and into the atmosphere.
I know how that balloon feels today.
Another early start, hoping it would mean an early finish was thwarted as a communication mix up resulted in a long wait for two skip bins to be picked up. We could not just leave as they were actually inside the building – something that seemed like a good idea at the time – and it would have been, if the pick up time had been given correctly. We ended up waiting, first three of us, then two as I sent my colleague who had arrived earlier than me home.
One of the two skips was filled with bricks and sand, the other with plastic and cement sheeting. We were stuck. At one point, we thought we saw the truck and waved him in, but it turned out to be from a different company. I wondered if he might help us out and just hoist them out of the building for us, but apparently there is some sort of skip bin lorry drivers’ code and he could not help.
Eventually, in desperation, I arranged for a forklift to move the lighter of the two bins. That was one useful piece of useful information I learned this weekend: that you can move a large skip with a forklift. Forklifts are amazing things and every year I promise myself that I will get my forklift licence and then forget to until I find myself alone with a skip to move.
The forklift got one skip out and then the driver reckoned he would go in and have a go at the brick one. Optimistic, I thought, but the driver’s judgement was never tested as suddenly, like a welcome phantom, the skip lorry hove into view on the loading dock ramp.
He picked up the heavy brick skip and then dropped it into the lighter one and whipped the two up onto the back of his truck and like a mirage, was gone. I was left, shattered by the last few days and exhausted by this final barrier which had delayed me getting back home early.
I am not sure why I was in such a hurry to get home. Post-event I am useless and wander around like a zombie. My husband had bought me a number of DVDs over the weekend and in a three for two offer included, The Intern as one of them. That seemed to be a good choice. Something light hearted and frothy.
I cried all the way through it.
Time for bed.