The Removalist

(La Boite Theatre)

Hopefully I won't end up looking like the guy in this promo for David Williamson's play.

I've just spent an hour or so with a removalist who is quoting on my forthcoming change of apartments. I dislike moving. All that packing and unpacking, all that rearranging of dust, all that angst on what to keep or discard. Yes, all of it is too, too daunting for me.

This is my first move for 22 years and at the age of 63 I have a confession. This is the first time when a change of residence is my responsibility and mine alone.

For my first 24 years I lived with my parents and all my moves were initiated and organised by them. I just went along for the ride. From 24 to 38 all my moves, including four overseas countries, were employment related and taxpayer funded. The Government made the arrangements and I followed orders. Then at 41, my most recent move and for the first time I had to pay the bills. My parents were still around and active and they made all the arrangements whilst I enjoyed the fruits of their labours and organisation without breaking into a sweat.

My parents are no longer around and now I have to organise a move for the very first time. Like a real grown up. What a responsibility. A fellow volunteer at the hospital recommended a removalist to me and later when I saw the same firm's advertisement in a community newspaper I took that as a good omen.

A very bubbly and evidently efficient young woman spent an hour this morning with clipboard in hand taking notes and acquainting herself with my 'property'. I liked her. I liked that she didn't complain about walking up my steep driveway in the steady rain. "It's only rain", she commented cheerfully. I was impressed by her. Her firm provides a full range of services that I had expected previously I would need to coordinate with three or four service providers. She gave me confidence. I've already decided to accept her quote no matter what it is. Well, maybe I will need to rethink if her quote is, say, a million dollars but it won't be that outrageous surely?

Eat your heart out, David Williamson.