Teamwork key to success on a moving occasion

Many hands make light work, as the saying goes - and that certainly rang true for my family one recent weekend.
Our younger daughter, 19 and lovely, has flown the nest, and her smooth transition was thanks in large part to the unstinting efforts of a tenacious crew.
She collected the keys to her new pad on the Tuesday before the weekend in question; I requested a day’s leave from work to assist with this initial undertaking, and we took advantage of the (albeit limited) space in my bijou car to transport a boot-load of possessions to the nouveau abode.
Parking was tricky, but we arrived in good time (read: forty minutes early…) and located a space a few hundred yards up the road, whereupon we remained cosily ensconced in the vehicle, awaiting either the appearance of the letting agent or the arrival of the appointed hour.
With five minutes to go before said time, we exited the car and made our way to the front of the property, where we stood sentry, casting searching glances hither and thither for a likely-looking apparition. Ten minutes had passed before we were hailed by a woman coming out of the flat: she and her colleague had also arrived at the property early, and, sensibly, had chosen to wait within.
Pleasantries exchanged, and misunderstandings swept aside, we entered the house, and were immediately reassured to note that - as had been promised - it had been smartly redecorated and spruced up since our previous visit.
A quick walk round and a flurry of questions and answers later, and my daughter was the grinning, key-bearing tenant of her very first solo home. It was a proud moment for us both - and so much closer than a relocation than London; I couldn’t have been more pleased.
Formalities over, we unloaded the car, then set off to the shops for basic non-perishables and sundry supplies, returning an hour or so later to make a start on unpacking in the limited time available before my young son finished school.
My daughter visited again the following day with various purchases in tow, but the Big Move didn’t happen until the Saturday, when it was full steam ahead and all hands on deck.
My husband and I loaded up his (far more capacious) car with black bags brim full with what seemed sufficient apparel to clothe a small country, then slid the world’s largest mirror gingerly atop this bulbous base - the dimensions of the boot with all seats folded down behind the driver and front passenger were just (just) large enough to accommodate the frame - before my daughter and husband merrily rolled away to deliver the bootful and collect some furniture housed locally to the flat.
Having dispensed with my daughter along with the items, my husband returned alone to refill the car with a new (thankfully, rolled) double mattress, bulging suitcase, and bags containing yet more clothes, plus various kitchen and lounge paraphernalia and my young son and myself; off we went to join my daughter.
Heading in the same direction were good friends of ours, with a fabulous bed settee along with an ironing board and other items in the back of their van, kindly donated.
We met them outside the property, and - somehow - managed to manoeuvre the behemothic sofa up the path, down a steep flight of steps, around one heinously narrow corner and then another, and into the lounge. It was a triumphant moment when we shunted it into position and replaced the cushions - a job well done. Our friends graciously declined the offer of a cuppa, obliged to collect their young son from a friend's house, and swiftly made their departure, leaving us in peace to tackle the next stage - furniture assembly.
My husband and I cracked on with the handsome pine double bed frame, and our daughter and son set to work on a trolley and coffee table. No sooner had we completed our tasks than my daughter enquired about going shopping yet again, wishing to maximize her time with a roomy vehicle at her disposal for bulky items, such as a clothes horse.
Off we trooped to the shops, returning some time later with the requisite purchases and a bag of frozen pizzas and fresh donuts - the perfect opportunity to check out the oven’s performance.
This apparatus was obligingly effective, and we enjoyed our makeshift dinner around the new coffee table, my husband and daughter simultaneously juggling pizza slices and struggling with sorting out the television reception. That proved a battle in vain, unfortunately; the picture is unlikely to improve before the Wi-Fi is installed - a miserable two weeks’ hence. Still, my daughter was moved in and (mostly) settled: all in all, a good day's work had been done. As to whether it was light work - I’ll leave that to the sofa man-handlers to answer.