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Stretching luxuriously, I turned to look at the calendar hanging on the wall by my bed. Today was Monday, June 1st. My family (including our old cat and recently acquired puppy) were booked on a plane leaving the country exactly three weeks from today. We were going to be away for at least four years.

You couldn't tell, though, looking around my bedroom, that this household was about to move. Everything was in its usual place. The same was true of the rest of our four-bedroom house. I sighed, got out of bed and walked downstairs to the kitchen.

Pouring myself a cup of coffee, I sat down to google "International Moving Company". I skimmed through the websites of a couple of international movers, and picked one at random. I sent off an email, outlining my needs and asking for an estimate of the cost of their services, remembering to include my phone number.

Then I took my coffee cup out to the porch, where the cat was asleep, and tried to decide whether to visit the hair salon that morning. Before I had made up my mind, the telephone rang. It woke up the cat. I had to go inside to get her breakfast, so I picked up the phone on the way in.

Someone from the International Moving Company I had just emailed was on the other end of the line, calling to make an appointment for a free on-site visit to evaluate the cost of the move. I asked for an estimate over the phone, but he declined. I told him I had a hairdresser's appointment, but he gently pointed out that it might be better to postpone it and allow his crew to come that morning. I agreed grumpily.

One hour later, I had a reasonable, detailed quote, including packing, for the cost of the move. There were no hidden charges or expenses. I waved goodbye to the International Moving Company people, and rushed to the station wagon. I'd decided to perm my hair.

The movers came back at exactly 9 am the next morning, as agreed. By 12 noon, they had packed everything that was to be shipped - perfect packing (labeled cartons, inventory list, the whole thing).

A representative from the International Moving Company sat down with my husband and I. He explained the regulations concerning moving our pets (health and rabies certificates etc.). He told us that my beloved plants would not be allowed into the country of our destination, and explained that, if we took our station wagon along, we would have to pay exorbitant customs duties on it. He knew everything there was to know about moving overseas. Well, that was his profession. He

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