There are boxes everywhere. There are boxes for the tip, which is fortunately just down the road. There are boxes for car boot sales, boxes for opening again when we move to our final destination and boxes of things to sell on Ebay. Alarmingly there is also a box marked “Caution – only to be opened in the event of another international move.” I think that may be my mistress’s idea of a joke, the caution bit anyway. I looked in the box before she sealed it up and there seem to be about 20 Uk to Europe converter plugs, Europe plug mosquito plugs, multiplugs, computer equipment and all sorts of things that won’t work while we are in England. I wonder if it will ever get opened.
An exciting thing happened in our new home. The Postman introduced himself to me by name. He’s Brian and I told him that I’m Alfie, which of course you knew. The good bit was that he then gave me a dog biscuit. I’ve promised never to bark at him or chase him, an offer I have not extended to the tabby cat who came and sat nose to nose with me, separated by the French windows in the kitchen. I was beside myself. My bed is just there. It isn’t on having anyone coming and staring into your bedroom, never mind the fact that it was a cat. I wonder if the cat would stick up for me against the two dogs next door that don’t like me. They have been very nasty towards me and not at all welcoming. Every time I go out they bark and bare their teeth at me in a most alarming way. I’m starting to feel bullied. I know I’m a wimp but it wouldn’t be very nice even if I were a brave dog.