5:00 a.m. Cab due in 20 minutes. Dressed, bed changed, windows & doors checked, appliances off. This is it. Just to be contrary, Lanarkshire has decided to be absolutely beautiful weather-wise this week (well, the locals keep complaining about how cold it is – one degree above zero – wusses) – it has been sunny, cold, crisp, no wind. I had thought leaving in November would be easier, meteorologically speaking.

I’m sad to leave – but I am looking forward to getting home. My sisters have texted me a bon voyage.

Time for one last check before dragging the cases as close to the front hall as possible. I have a baggage allowance of 69kg in three bags – I’ve come in over by 2 kilos (here’s hoping).

Bye, Scotland!

Strangest thing — for the first time in 26 months, an advert for Air Canada just popped into my social media feed, urging me to ‘Visit & See Canada’. This is 14 hours before I leave. I’m not even flying Air Canada.

Yeah, right. The computers aren’t secretly our overlords. Sure.

After a lot of to-ing & fro-ing, the animal transport company and I have come to a compromise: I am still flying out Monday, Scout is still flying out Wednesday, but now my next door neighbour is taking Scout for a couple of days, and THEY (Pets on The Move) will pick her up and THEY will take her to the vet for this last check. So that crisis has been averted.

I’ve had the car in for an oil change and either engine oil in the UK is more expensive than gold, or I was seriously taken advantage of by the mechanic. Ah well. I had intended to take the car to car wash & vacuum, but my cousins, who are buying the car for their horse-mad daughter’s use, assure me that it will be full of straw, hay, mud, and worse within no time. So that’s another major task ticked off our list.

Now I’m sitting at my desk cancelling my cellphone plan, my car & renter’s insurance, my fitness centre membership from Orkney (maybe I should have cancelled that one some time ago – oops), and changing my address with my bank.

This afternoon: clean and assemble the dog’s kennel, and continue packing. (This evening? Wine.)

The Great British Bake Off airs on Tuesday evenings. Because of everything that’s gone on over the last two days, I missed it last night and just sat down to watch this week’s episode. A good week – my sister & I once tried making puff pastry (why? I don’t know) and my hat is off to those bakers for producing what they did in this week’s show-stopper. As the episode ended, it suddenly occurred to me – I had just watched the semi-final. The final will be aired 36 hours after I leave the UK. And this season won’t be shown in Canada until spring 2024 at the earliest.

Well, damn.

I was so organised. I had lists. I had spreadsheets. I had a GANTT chart. (Well, maybe not that last one.) What went wrong?

Back and forth with the Pet Movers – after 36 hair-raising hours of emails, phone calls, and general scrambling (and possibly begging), I may have a partial solution. My absolutely WONDERFUL nextdoor neighbour has agreed to take Scout from Sunday evening until she is to be picked up on Tuesday. Scout should be airborne by 7am Wednesday, and in Brampton by 1pm EST.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch . . . . the Change Engine Oil light just came on in the Corsa. Of course it did. Getting in to see a mechanic in less than 2 weeks can be a bit of a nightmare in Scotland, but my cousins take the car (they’re buying it – they haven’t hijacked it) back with them to England Saturday morning. So I had to get it done this week. Found a mechanic who agreed to squeeze us in tomorrow – yay, crisis averted.

Meanwhile, back in the baggage zone (aka the guest bedroom) . . . . even tho I have fewer clothes than when I arrived, I am really not sure I can fit everything in my suitcases. I have a 3-checked bag, 70 kilo limit, and yes, even with those hefty limits, I am still struggling to get it all in. People have been so kind – I bought very few souvenirs myself, but when your lovely young niece gives you a gorgeous coffee table book of Japanese cooking, or her sister has spoiled the dog with at least a dozen wonderful stuffed toys, it’s hard to say no to finding a spot for them in the bag.

And throughout all of this, someone suffers in silence . . . . .

When I transported Scout two years ago, the Animal Transport company in Toronto was so on the ball, so detail-oriented, so specific in their instructions. They laid out exactly what would happen, when the dog had to leave one country and arrive in the next, what were their responibilities, what were mine — almost military in their precision.

I really liked the Scottish company they used to ‘receive’ Scout in Glasgow, so of course I called them this time (of course, I think they may be the only domestic animal transport company in Scotland but still — I had been impressed with how caring they were). I told them the day of my flight and arranged for them to pick Scout up the day before (that would be this coming Sunday). We have been in frequent contact over the past few weeks: rabies shot, bill payments, various certificates — it all seemed to be flowing pretty well.

That is, until 25 minutes ago, when they wrote to tell me that Scout will be flying out late on Wednesday (that’s 60 hours AFTER I leave). And I have to get her to an approved vet within 72 hours BEFORE she leaves for medical clearance. Let’s take that second point first. At no point in any of our communications did they tell me to be ready for that ( I even asked in one email, altho that was more about rabies shot, I guess). The local vet is closed on Sat/Sun, but they have a surgery open in Motherwell for 2 hours on Saturdays, they are impossible to get an appointment and I have no idea if any of their vets are ‘OV accreditted’. And even so, I won’t have a car on Saturday, and am leaving Monday morning. Which leads to the first point: I leave Monday morning.

Just got off the phone with them. They may be able to get her out on Sunday, the day before I leave, but won’t know for another few hours. And I am now phoning around Lanarkshire, Renfrewshire, & Ayrshire, looking for an accreditted vet who can see her on Friday or Saturday.

Trying very hard to stay calm.

I leave in exactly six days, 23 hours, and 22 minutes. Wow. Less than a week. Lotsa big feelings going on.

I’ve taken Lindsay’s advice and waited until after arriving home from Sweden last night to even start thinking about packing. (Obviously, I have booked my flight, booked Scout’s transport, arranged for porters at either end, booked taxi from here to Glasgow airport. But today is the first day of sorting, cleaning, laundry, packing, etc…)

I have three days with the house to myself, as it were, then on Thursday my cousin flies in for three days to help and to drive her daughter’s new car (my old car) back to England, then I have one day on my own, no car, to finish last minute touches, kiss Scout good bye, throw out perishables, wash bedding, and leave my uncle’s lovely wee home in ship shape condition.

Taxi picks me up this Monday at 5:15 am, and I should be meeeting my sister at Pearson around 5:15 pm the same day.

I loved Stockholm. Very vibrant, busy city, full of museums, galleries, restaurants, and cafes. Socializing with your friends seems to be everyone’s second job there. And of course everyone speaks perfect English. So handy.

The Vasa Museum was particularly interesting – the Vasa was a warship that sank on its maiden voyage (hell, it was still in the harbour when a gust of wind caused it to keel over and swamp, so maybe not a very good warship) in 1628. It was salvaged over 300 years later in excellent condition, still full of artifacts and the remains of over a dozen people. The exhibits were fascinating.

And I really liked the Moderna Museet — right up my alley. I spent a lot longer there than I had intended, and nearly missed my lunch reservation (God forbid). One exhibit by Rashid Johnson was so interesting that after going through the museum once, I turned back to Seven Rooms and a Garden and went through it again.

Weather was perfect for walking everywhere – between 2° and -4° with no wind each day. And in the evenings I went and checked out all the hockey set-up in the Kungstradgarden – the park looked beautiful and everyone was having a blast.

Even tho I don’t like shopping, I noticed that their stores looked different from ours, so on my last afternoon I window shopped — not to buy, but to see what their stores looked like, particularly housewares and decor. And much like the Simpsons’ window displays in Toronto when I was little, going and looking at the Christmas windows of the NK department store is clearly a Sunday activity for families this time of year.

What a fantastic city.

I flew from Edinburgh to Stockholm on Norwegian Air and was a little surprised at how many Maple Leafs logos I was seeing. Finally I asked someone and it seems the NHL (well, at least a few teams) has landed in Sweden. So, the very weekend I’m here exploring a foreign country, I’m surrounded by hosers, and toques, and a lot of ‘sorries’. Hunh.

it was dark when I arrived (6pm), but what a vibrant, busy city! I decided on dinner in the hotel, but can’t wait to check out the sites in the morning.

** Edit: on the plane ride home I got talking to the young couple beside me and it turns out they were the same couple I had stopped four days earlier in the Stockholm underground to ask what was going on with all the Leafs paraphernalia. Small world.

Continuing to take Lindsay’s ‘Do NOT treat your last two months as a wind-down – treat it as more of your holiday’ advice, my cousin and I went to see the Grayson Perry: Smash Hits exhibit.

Sir Grayson Perry is a very unusual Englishman. He is a TV presenter, a transvestite, and an artist who works primarily in ceramics and tapestries. I have often seen him interviewed on UK TV and I had seen a photographic portrait of him, his wife, and their daughter in the National Portrait Gallery, but I had never seen any of his work. Wow. This man is NOT a minimalist. His work is amazing. The tour of the exhibit (which was huge) comes as quite the onslaught to the senses. There is an audio tour as an accompaniment, and it is Grayson narrating – this made the exhibit 100 times better than it already was (and it already was great).

His work is often autobiographical, usually social commentary on England of the last 50 years, and sometimes both at the same time. It was fascinating, and mesmerizing, and off-putting, and compelling – but I will admit that after 90 minutes I needed to step away – it was definitely sensory overload. When you think that my favourite artist is Mark Rothko, you can see why I found the pieces below overwhelming (and there were over 80 works on display).

So glad I went.