Having failed to sell it, and not wanting to tip it, I freecycled my piano and it's going to a new home in Stratford. A quick check this morning revealed 8p and the National Insurance card of a previous lodger. The new owners, delightful people, arranged for a removal firm to come and fetch it and they turned up punctually, which I hope is an omen.
Al Murray, in his Pub Landlord act, asks people's names and whenever someone says 'Dave' he says it's a great British name. 'All the real work in the world,' he continues 'is done by people called Dave, unless they need help or can't make it in which case they have a mate called Steve.'
So the removal guy turns up, says his name is Steve and I say so is mine and he says in that case we'll have no problems and eyes the piano and after a few moments I suspect it might just be him and me so I ask and it turns out he has a mate called Dave in the van.
Piano moving is not that straighforward but after ten seconds head scratching they work out that my advice about how to move it is rubbish and tip the piano, slide it, tip it and then with me and Dave on one end and Steve on the other have it down the hall, down the steps, onto a piano trolley and off into the van. Total length of job - 10 minutes.
At which point the new owner turns up with chocolate and wine (so how sussed has she got me - thanks Julie) and another beautiful deal is done.