We left our house around 5pm last night to go and meet Jon. Pulling up outside his house we beeped the horn but he never came out. With the rain coming down Brad decided to ring him rather than get out the car.
“Dena’s gone to get the kids so we’ll have to wait for her to come back. She’ll only be a few minutes,” he said.
“Okay, no worries. We’ll be sat in the car,” replied Brad.
After he’d hung up we tried to work out why he couldn’t leave the house but we never did.
Finally Dena arrived back and Jon came out and got in his van.
Following us to Ferial's mothers house he pulled up outside and reversed back to the front door.
Our first problem was getting the piano into the hallway. In the end we had to lift it up and put it on one end and shuffle it through into the hall. From there we dropped it down and wheeled it to the front door.
At the front door we had to lift it over the step. Jon and Brad were at one end, outside, with me and Roy inside at the other end.
“1… 2… 3… Lift!” said Jon, “come on, push it!”
There was a collective sigh as we put it down from everyone… apart from me!
I couldn’t sigh. I couldn’t make a sound.
“What’s wrong with Rob?” said Ferial
“Eh?” said Roy.
“Well look at his face! Rob why are you pulling those faces?”
At this point my mouth was open but I couldn’t make a sound. I tried but couldn’t actually make any noise.
“Oh my God!” cried Ferial. Then she started yelling something in Welsh but soon realised no one else could understand her.
“His arm is trapped!” she said, “Is your arm trapped Rob?”
I nod furiously and finally the lift the piano is lifted away from the doorframe and I can free my arm.
The four of us struggle and get the piano into the van and the head back to our house.
Getting it from the van into our house proved just as difficult but we finally got it in and it now sits proudly in my lounge.
Of course this morning I can’t move my arm very much. There is no bruising and I’m not worried, I just have very little movement in it. Driving was fun!
SO now I’m sat at work, planning course to finish just before we leave, listening to my boss talk about what her son gets up to in the bedroom on his own and listening to a volunteer telling us that children should not be the product of sex. I can’t quite work out how else we’re going to get them but I’m sure she has a point.