25 February 2027
Thursday. Packing. Not for me. For whoever minds the plots in Melbourne.
The booking calendar says the first of March. Monday. I’ve been asked to send a few things over to help the new place get started, so I’ve put together a barrow: one rake, one spade, a stiff broom, a thermos with no dents and a tin of biscuits, because a groundskeeper without biscuits is just a man standing in the cold.
Also a note, same as I sent to Sydney. Rake towards the path. Check both lids twice. It’s always two, so if you ever count three, ring somebody.
Tuppence got in the barrow. I took her out. She got back in. I have decided she is not going to Melbourne, and she has decided otherwise, and I expect we will find out on Monday which of us was right.
Tally: plots disturbed, two, as usual. Barrows packed, one. Cats removed from barrow, four times so far.
— H., groundskeeper
