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Rescuing a bed

The one loose end left (apart from the possible court case he claims he will bring against me) in the landlord story was the fact that the bed that Adeline's mother lent me was still there at the house. Once I had that off his property, all he has on me is my phone number. Okay, and my name and ID number. But I'm okay with those.

Being a big double bed, we couldn't get it out on Sunday night without a bakkie, so we left it there. He had removed it from my room (without permission, of course), wrapped it in plastic, and shoved it in a room outside the house. Last night, I went to the house with Mark Ter Morshuizen, a friend of mine from CLUG, who offered me the use of his bakkie on Tuesday night. (I tried to phone George twice before arriving, to formally ask permission to enter the property, but he ignored my calls. Ah well.)

On arrival, and with much trepidation, we went into the house, to find that only Jeffrey, George's worker, was home. Jeffrey and I are on fairly good terms, and he knew what I was there for, and was about to help me carry the bed out, when he paused and asked "You will leave the keys here after taking the bed?" I told him that I would return the keys when my tenancy was finished, namely at the end of the month. He did not seem at all happy about this - it was clear that George had given him strict instructions not to let the bed leave the property until he had my keys. He tried to tell me that I couldn't take the bed, but I just walked past him, found the keys to the outside room, and started removing the bed. Jeffrey tried to tell me I couldn't take it, and then tried to phone George to tell him what was happening. He wouldn't open the side gate for me, so Mark and I just hoisted the bed over the wall and carried it to the car.

Poor Jeffrey was in an anguish, and kept trying to beg me to leave the keys with him, clearly very worried about what would happen if I didn't. I said "Jeffrey, you know me?" and he said, yes, he did. I said, "Jeffrey, I promise you, I will bring the keys back. I live in the house until the end of August. If I don't return the keys at the end of August, I am illegal, and I will go to jail. I will bring them back." and I shook his hand. This seemed to cheer him up no end, and he even helped us tie the bed onto the roof of the bakkie, and find a missing leg that had fallen off. I then shook his hand again, and we left the house.

It was at this point that Mark turned to me and said "You can calm down now, it's over", and I realised what a state I was in. I had been practically frantic in my efforts to get the bed out of the house before George returned and started kicking up a fuss, and I didn't realise how out of breath and shaky I was. When I realised that the whole thing was basically over... Well, the relief was palpable.

We dropped the bed off at my new house, and I picked up my new set of keys, and I will move into the new place this evening. To summarise: Hurrah!