Richmond to Reservoir.

Well, the big move from Richmond to elsewhere within Zone 1 is over, and it all went surprisingly well. The removalists’ technique was a shade casual, (more akin to airport baggage handlers), but they were friendly and obliging, even cracking the odd joke here and there, so it could have been worse. Actually, from what I’ve heard of other people’s moving experiences, much, much worse.

The only casualties for the day were one ceramic platter and 46 CD cases, but who’s counting. The so-called “packing tape” that I bought turned out to be as sticky as a Post-It note. You’d seal up your box and come back later to find it clinging on with only a breath of grip. It was like bark peeling from a tree come… tree peeling season, or whatever it’s called when bark starts to peel. I bought replacement tape, but must have missed re-taping the box with all my CDs. The removalist guy decided to upend the box to get it on the trolley, and… whoops. Over the years I’ve built up quite a large collection of spare cases for occasions such as this when new cases are needed. When packing to move, however, you’re reminded of how much junk you own and so look for any excuse to hurl as much as you can into the bin. As I generally take good care of my CDs, my large collection of emergency cases had done nothing but collect dust on top of a bookshelf for years and years, so they were looked upon with little mercy. I actually remember thinking, “Seriously, when am I going to need this many CD cases?”

The whole situation recalled to mind one of my favourite words from Douglas Adams and John Lloyd's, The Meaning of Liff.

NOTTAGE (n.) Nottage is the collective name for things which you find a use for immediately after you’ve thrown them away. For instance, your greenhouse has been cluttered up for years with a huge piece of cardboard and great fronds of gardening string. You at last decide to clear all this stuff out, and you burn it. Within twenty-four hours you will urgently need to wrap a large parcel, and suddenly remember that luckily in your greenhouse there is some cardb...

Anyway, moving’s weird. You wake up in the morning in one place, and then go to sleep in another. That’s not so uncommon, I guess, you do that when you go on holiday, but moving is like going on holiday and taking ALL your earthly belongings with you. Which actually sounds pretty good to me. I hate leaving my books at home when I go away, and I hate having to try to anticipate what I’ll need. You never know quite when Fowler’s Guide to English Usage is going to come in handy, but if I take that, it’s The Columbia Encyclopaedia I need, but if I take that… Oh look, I survive, and at least I’m not starving to death or being eaten by vultures, but all I’m saying is my life’d be a spot easier if I could have all my books on my Palm, please.

Ok, anyway, so in the space of a few hours I’ve gone from living in one place, to living in another that, up until a few months ago, I’d never been to in my life. First impressions are good! The street’s nice, the local shops are close, many and varied, the train station’s also close and the commute to work takes only a few minutes longer than it did from Richmond! And I believe there’s even a 7-Eleven within walking distance, although it could be a fair walk, I couldn’t judge the scale in the Melway. Investigation will be required.

Connex Pronounces ‘Reservoir’ Issue Settled.

In the Blue Corner, it’s the contender you love to hate, weighing in at 120 pounds of total pretentiousness and upper-class snobbery, it’s the delicate, puffed-up, featherweight, Reser-VWAH!

Boo! Hiss!

And in the Red Corner, it’s The Champ, weighing in at a hulking 250 pounds, it’s the mass of the masses, the down to earth, salt of the earth, Reser-VOR!

Yay! Woooooo!

But what’s this? Stepping into the ring, it’s a new contender, and it’s a woman! She’s sponsored by Connex, she’s smooth, confident, professional and focus-group approved, it’s the striking middleweight… Reser-VWOR!

Reser-VWOR? Coming home on the train last night, I thought I’d hear what the disembodied Connex “Next Station” woman had to say on the issue of how to pronounce ‘Reservoir’. I thought she could easily go one way or the other, but never expected her to go bang up the middle, forging this new, hybrid, son of a motherless goat.

I’m not sure about ‘VWOR’. Maybe it is the best of both worlds: a cultural adaptation that retains the spirit of the original; but it sounds a lot like “Phwoar” to me, and brings to mind Rik from The Young Ones, secretly reading his Cosmo magazine behind the locked door of his bedroom.

I don’t know. It’s too hard to make a decision. Maybe I’ll just have to stick with ‘Rezimate’?