WHEN we moved to MooTown, we swore that it was the last move we would ever make.
"They can cart us out of here in a box,” Rita said.
We didn't take into account that friends may also move and, being the type to be relied upon, we offered our help.
With the move scheduled for the Monday, we arrived back in Hooterville on Sunday to a home full of some 90 odd boxes.
So, here we are and I take a closer look at us all.
Here's Rita with her back injury sustained nearly ten years ago and which has never improved.
Here's Sandy with her lungs operating at well south of 50 per cent.
Here's Bobby with his cane to prop up his wobbly legs.
And then there's me.
Those of you that know me in the flesh also know that I'm pretty decrepit myself.
Indeed, our Tom and Nick's description of me as "mouldy bacon”, a play on Gra-ham, is becoming more accurate as the years pass.
But that's never stopped a man from doing what a man's gotta do!
The back's not too bad, having finally recovered from the swan dive I took off a ladder a few months back.
The lungs miraculously still work reasonably well after a lifetime of choofing, and I don't need a walking stick to prop up the extra 25kg hanging mostly around my gut.
I took it upon myself to move those boxes out onto the back patio.
Against Sandy's protestations that the removalists could do it the next day, I pointed out to her that it would only add to their time and hence expense.
So move them I did. Huffing, puffing and grunting with the occasional can of Jack Daniels for intestinal fortitude, by nightfall all were moved.
This is not to say that the others sat around and watched. Far from it. It was just that the heavy lifting was, by necessity, left to me.
Monday arrives and, possibly displaying some stupidity, I again moved all the boxes out onto the driveway for quick loading.
Unfortunately the removalists didn't arrive till three in the afternoon, shortly after which the new owners of the house arrived to move some of their possessions in.
"Would you mind just putting them in one room for now?” asked Rita, as we still had heavy gear to move.
"Not at all,” they responded, totally ignoring our request. Finally, after dark we arrived at Bob and Sandy's new home and with additional help from their daughter and granddaughter got unloaded in double quick time.
By 9pm the very last thing I had to do was put our bed for the night together. Changing its position was when the back went "ping”.
Now I'm looking more decrepit than the other three. One day I might learn my limitations.
Three visits to the chiro later and I'm sort of back to normal. On each of those visits he said to me how much better the back would be if I got rid of the front.
That, together with the unspoken look of horror on my sister's face when she saw the increase in midriff spread since we'd last met and my good - and very constrained - mate, Don, gently suggesting that maybe we should go on a diet together, has finally conspired to make me - once again - go on a diet.
So this time I'm publicly announcing to you all that I'm doing just that.
Each column I'm going to finish with the usual "take care of you”, followed by my current weight.
If I go up I expect a bombardment of emails or text messages berating the crap out of me.
I also have a wedding to attend in August. Our Steve hooked up with us via Skype from London the other night to introduce us to his lady, Miki and to announce their engagement.
They will be flying home for the wedding and I'm NOT going to be The-Fat-Old-Father-Of-The Groom! I've a wardrobe of clothes that I haven't worn for years, and by geez I intend to get back into them.
So, when I made the decision to lose weight I was 104kg.
The following week I made 103kg.
The week after that I hit 101.
Stay tuned for my current weight.
At Don's insistence, Monday mornings are the weigh in, which make Sundays particularly miserable.
I've cut out bread and sweets, junk food and lollies.
Otherwise I just have small servings and so far it's working out OK.
I'm hoping I don't get sick of Cruskits with sweet chilli tuna and tomato for lunch every day. If we have lunch out I eat that for dinner instead. Coles are making a tuna fortune off me.
The next truck show I attend is I think, Alexandra, so pat me on the back or hit me with a bat. I'm counting on you all.
Take care of you, Kermie (98kg)