Hi ParkRoyal2100,
I’ve done a bit of removals when working for a remover/general haulier in my late teens/early 20’s. If “general” work was quiet, you’d be put on removals with the regular boys. What a bloody hard job! Had some right laughs too and a lot of good nights out. A couple stick in my mind, one was the first job I went on. Two elderly alcoholics moving from Eastbourne to Hove. 2 bed flat, first floor, no worries we thought. Just me and regular man Ray Angel, who was a master at his craft. Turned up at 0800 to find them still in bed. Got them up and out of bed. First thing they offer is a whiskey. I declined, but they didn’t. They were ■■■■■■ by 10.00. All loaded by 12.00 with the usual nightmare kitchen appliances covered in ■■■■■ (you know that feeling of taking the bottom end of the cooker and feeling slime!!). They head off in their car (!!) with us heading to Hove via the cafe. Arranged a 13.30 meet with (hopefully) the keys after contracts are exchanged.
The time was now 14.00 and no sign of the pair of them. Another hour and a call to the estate agent who confirmed the pair had collected the keys at lunchtime. Luckily the door to the flat could be opened with a “nudge”, so we started to unload stuff in to the logical places. At about 16.00 the pair of them appeared on foot. She couldn’t stand and he’d ■■■■■■ himself. They couldn’t remember where they had left the car, and had trouble finding the flat!! Offloaded all the gear and left them both sound asleep on the settee with stuff piled round them What a baptism that was!!
Another one was having to drive an old couple from Eastbourne to Lincoln in their “DAF Variomatic” whilst following the removal lorry. Through London (pre-M25) was a bloody nightmare. The thing wouldn’t change gear properly and kept overheating, and the old couple stank of used nappies. Finding toilets for them en-route was the biggest task!!
Another was doing a politicians’ move to Northern Ireland. The deal was I was the only driver prepared to do it as 1) it was shipping out on Boxing Day, 2) the lorry had a big Union Jack emblazoned on the side and 3) it was a politically sensitive move!! Off we went up to Liverpool to ship out next day to Belfast. Off the ferry to a village called Portaferry. Got stones thrown at us on the way, then greeted with armed guards whilst we unloaded. We were just about to head back to the safety of the docks in Belfast when a bomb had gone off in the city centre. Hammer it we did and into the docks for safety. After calming down we thought a little beer or two would be a good idea. Into a bar we go, ordered a drink from the barmaid who says “oh you’re English then?” Now, some people in the bar took offence to this, so luckily for me and my mate we were both fit enough to outrun them!! Never again.
The best one was another Ireland move, this time Eastbourne to a place called Youghal near Cork. All loaded and straight to Fishguard for the night ferry. Over to Rosslare and down to Cork. I was driving this leg, and Roy,a “hired hand” from a local removal company was driving back. Down to the drop in pouring rain, unloaded within 2 hours into a bungalow in what seemed like a monsoon. We were both saturated, so the idea was to dry out our clothes a bit by hanging them around the cab. Roy changed into fresh ones, but I decided to sit in my shorts with a removal blanket wrapped around my shoulders to dry myself out.I would learn to regret that decision!
We set of back towards Rosslare in still-pouring rain along a winding single carriageway. The heaters were set by Roy (who was now the pilot) to hot, so we could dry out the sodden clothes dangling around the cab like some chinese laundry. I was dozing in the heat of the cab with my blanket around me, the bends of the road rocking me to sleep. The problem was it did the same to Roy. I awoke to him screaming like a Banshee and seeing a big mud bank accelerating towards me. Bang! Mud everywhere, and hitting my head on the cab passenger door. Then quiet. I looked across to see Roy frozen in his driver seat, clutching the steering wheel with locked arms.I didn’t realize, but we were on our side, my side being at the bottom. I said “■■■■■■■ hell,you ok mate?”. This had the effect of loosening his grip on the wheel and gravity took over! He landed on me with a bang, smacking my head again. Miraculously, all the glass was intact, so the only option was to climb out the drivers door and jump down to the ground. Which we did. The problem now was we were blocking the entire road, and I was standing there bare-foot with a pair of boxer shorts on, clutching a removal blanket in pouring rain! What a bloody sight I must’ve been!
Within minutes the Guarda arrived, but they wouldn’t get out their car as it was raining, so sent Roy one way up the twisting road and me the other, removal blanket in hand, to direct traffic down a narrow lane in order to avoid our carnage. A few minutes went by as I was directing traffic and all of a sudden a hunched figure shuffled up the road towards me, draped in a raincoat but carrying something. “Would you like some tea and biscuits?” a womans gentle voice asked. A Nun from a nearby Convent had walked up the road to me with a tray of 2 mugs of tea and a plate with rich-tea biscuits on!! Manna from Heaven!
An hour or so went by, and eventually we had a crane to lift us upright. Amazingly, the only damage done was a lot of scraped side bodywork, a broken mirror and Roys damaged ego. I got my trousers and shirt back on, then with a once-over at the recovery yard garage for an oil check etc, we headed back home. Roy would never admit to falling asleep at the wheel, and considering we had gone over after hitting the bank on the offside, we were very lucky. The nearside of the road was a steep, wooded drop down to a small stream. He didn’t even get prosecuted, I think the Guarda had felt we had suffered enough.
Roy quit soon after that and I went on to the haulage side on artic distance work, so I could never be put on removals again. And I wasn’t!
Regards,
Mark.