After selling our house, furniture and giving away most of our possessions we were down to what amounted to approximately 20 medium boxes full of mostly sentimental items, a couple of household goods, a few kilts and jumpers and a few pieces of art. Now came the task of storing these items until such time as we have a land based home in which to put them. Since we don’t plan on our home base being in the U.S., it made sense to store our items with a very kind family member in Scotland. Cue the complexities of arranging transport now.
Mark used an old sail, some carboard and scrap wood to fashion 4 large crates that we would be able to check as baggage via British Airways. The remainder, totaling 11 boxes would have to be shipped. Since we are eyeing a departure date to cross the Gulf of Mexico to Florida, we would only be able to stay in the U.K. for a week. Not a lot of time to coordinate so many moving parts. Thus began a literal whirlwind of planes, buses and automobiles in the U.K.
We arranged for shipment of the 11 boxes through Cool Parcel via UPS. They would pick up 2 days before we departed on our flight and would arrive in the U.K. 2 days after we arrived and that would allow us time to move our shipment up to the attic of our relative and give us time to visit with family and friends, do two days of flat shopping in Glasgow and Inverkip before we flew back to Texas to get Ceol Mor packed and ready to leave before Thanksgiving. Easy peasy, right? Not so fast cowboy. The gods do enjoy messing about with people’s carefully planned endeavors and this particular plan offered far too many opportunities for bedevilment to pass up.
Our shipment was picked up on the appointed day. We picked up the rental car at the airport, drove it back to the boat and proceeded to load our crates. The crates that were meticulously weighed, packaged and measured to meet the criteria of the airline and the exact cargo dimensions of our reserved rental vehicle. This is when we discovered that the alternative vehicle provided by Hertz had very different dimensions than the one we reserved and oh, the crates won’t all fit. What ensued was a good hour of crate Jenga in which Mark and I divorced. Twice in fact I think. In the end, we managed to cram it all in, tie down the hatch to an almost closed position, remarry each other, drive back to the boat, pack a carry on bag and get a little sleep before our flights.
Let me just assure you, if you wish to become acquainted on an up close and personal basis with airport and border security, all you need to do is show up with oversized, hand made shipping crates to the airport. You will become very well acquainted, but they will not buy you dinner and a movie first.
We made it to Heathrow Terminal 5 and for some reason, despite never leaving a secure area we had to undergo additional security clearance. Seems as if Mark had packed haircutting shears that were okay from Houston to London, but from London to Edinburgh were deemed too big by 3 mm. These not being inexpensive scissors, after a lengthy discussion we were able to have them shipped via DHL to Scotland for only 30 pounds. Le sigh.
Sorted. Arrived in Edinburgh, picked up the rental car, broke down the crates and then drove to the Kingdom of Fife. As we pulled up to the flat and began to unload, an elderly woman rolled up in a motorized wheelchair and asked Mark if he was the nice man. With his arms laden with boxes, he stated that I was the nice one. She came up to me and after several rounds of “I’m sorry? I don’t understand?” due to my Texan drawl hearing having difficulty translating her Fife brogue I understood she needed me to go to the corner store and procure her grocery list. Um, ok? As she pressed the list and a wad of currency into my hand, she thanked me as she needed groceries but was banned from the shop. Umm…what? She let me know where her flat was. I ventured off to the shop, procured her items, managed to find her block of flats and deposit her groceries and change and went back down the street to continue unloading.
At this point in time, I was alone on the street managing the unload when a man approached on a bicycle, stopped and uttered something in the thickest, most mushy mouthed brogue I have ever heard. ‘Ummm, what?’. Can you repeat in English please. After 3 or 4 repetitions, eventually I understood that he had stated “you need a husband”. As the light bulb of recognition went off over my brain, I remembered his eyebrow wiggle and wink on his first attempt at communication. This guy was a caricature of every minor thug-wannabe character in every Guy Ritchie movie ever. I think, though I am not sure that this was a marriage proposal from Tommy of Snatch fame. Clean cup. Move down.
Eventually, we got the boxes up in the attic and then began the wait for our shipment. Until the arrival of the shipment was confirmed, we were unable to plan anything and our entire itinerary was a guess.
And we waited. The appointed time of delivery came and went with nothing happening. What followed next was 3 days of Mark being told that despite following the instructions from all involved shipping companies and UK customs entities to a T, there was another form that we were missing. Rinse. Repeat.
Due to being held up with shipping dates and forms we were only able to do a lightning fast trip to visit friends, a one-day house shopping down from the planned 2 and then it was time to wait for delivery. With our planned departure date looming and knowledge that rebooking our return flight would incur a hefty cost that would hit our budget hard it was a little anxiety producing.
And we waited. And waited. Suddenly, despite the fact that we were not liable for VAT as the shipped items were either sentimental items with no monetary value or items that Mark had purchased in the UK years ago before bringing them to the US over 20 years ago UPS refused to deliver unless we paid over 400 pounds in VAT duties. We could, contest the charge but they would not release our shipment until after our dispute had been investigated and we would need to provide original sales receipts to back our claims. This would take weeks. And so we were forced to fork over a sizable chunk of change to preserve the preschool art projects of our kids, some family photos and a few personal items. Extortion paid and our shipment was finally released and shipped. Except for one box. Of course.
In the end, our final box was delivered with literally hours to spare before our return flights to the U.S. We had delays but managed to return to the U.S. in short order. Want to spend more quality time with Customs and Border Protection? Return from abroad without the crates you flew out with and be a foreign national. Guaranteed one on one time with the Customs professionals.
In the end, we made it back to the boat to begin the final preparations before heading out to cross the Gulf of Mexico. We are tired, but relieved. Our possessions are stored and sorted. The boat is not perfect but no boat ever is. Ceol Mor is a tough boat. If I can manage the toughness to deal with the last week, I should be just fine during this next challenge. We have what appears to be a good window for us beginning just 6 days after we flew back into the States. So it’s time to provision, send off the last bits of holiday mail, turn my car over to its new owner and get going. At the end of the day, if you want to do anything interesting in life eventually you have to just take a deep breath and jump. I’m a bit nervous about the sailing as I am feeling extremely rusty on the sailing front, but we’ll just be positive, call it a sailing immersion class and jump in.
