Things are getting fraught. We could lose Nice Couple 2. They are threatening to withdraw from the sale if they don't get a commitment about a date of our vacating. And then last night we saw two houses. The first was hilarious. The woman apologised for the smell of baking as she told us she likes to bake bread every day. Alex sneaked a look in the oven (cheeky) and apparently it was just par baked ciabatta. There was so little out of place in the kitchen it was clear that the bread had not been made from scratch. Then above her bed was this enormous photograph of the lady of the house posing in a reclining position. Puhlease. What are people like?
The second house could be the one tho'. But it's very big for just the two of us and Blue. And it's a whole 25% more than we intended spending. However, it's a house full of character....and space. My head has been done in with figures. Today has been a round robin of a day between e-mails and phone calls. And what of Aggi's house which is still our number one (certainly on cost and on size). So I dropped her a text. Oh, blow me - I am worn out. And we are heading off to Wales for the Easter weekend and the old country for a couple of weeks after that. Would be nice to have arrived at some sort of decision rather than this limbo. Yikes.
Wednesday 31 March 2010
Friday 26 March 2010
Fare thee well, Anne Boleyn
Alex woke me early this morning. What time is it she asked. 6.30 I said. She was up, showered, and back on the bed drying her hair 5 minutes later. Make us a coffee, love, she said. I decoded this. I knew she wanted me out of the bed chamber this morning while she dressed for work. So me and Blue sloped down to the kitchen. Twenty minutes later Anne Boleyn swept downstairs resplendent in regal purple, her hair a deep auburn and tied back in a golden brocade thingy. The front was decorated with an array of pearls and other tasteful jewels and broaches. The sight of her took my breath away. Your majesty, I sighed, as I sank into a deep curtsy. Blue had a cautious sniff and wagged her bunty tail furiously. It's History day at the school and the corridors and classrooms will be heaving with Vikings, Romans, Tudors and Victorians. I watched the rubbernecking from the upstairs window as Anne Boleyn got into the car to drive to work. What a way to make a living.
Thursday 25 March 2010
House Moving Blues
The one property we are interested in we viewed on 5th January. Our offer was grudgingly accepted by the agent. However, not all was straightforward. At first, the agent was sniffy with us because we did not have our HIP done. We paid the money and got that sorted and Aggi, the vendor and the agent accepted we could be genuine. But we still were not in a position to exchange as our house was not under offer. We set to remedy that. We transformed our little house creating the illusion of stylish cottage living with corner lamps, warm coloured rugs and bed cushions. Decluttering by storing excess baggage in the car, we produced the clichéd aroma of coffee and rested the Le Creuset pot suggestively on the hob, one cold slushy Saturday morning when Couple 1 viewed our home. We bated our breath. And waited. They viewed it on three more occasions. Finally, after their fourth viewing, with mama and papa, they put in their offer. It was £20k short. We held out. We were only willing to go £10k short. They came up a bit and we came down a bit and then, the price was agreed. And we fell back into living in the newspaper littered cottage with dirty dishes left in the sink and towels flung around the bathroom. This semi-squalor lasted just two weeks when they changed their minds and pulled out. Alex never like them anyway. So we were back to Square 2 living in the stylish cottage with not an iota out of place. Along came Couple 2. They loved it. Offered £10k below immediately and we accepted straight away.
So we went back to our agent with the good news. Tell Aggi, we chimed, that we are good buyers. We have sold. But, the agent was having difficulty. Her couple at the top of the chain were having second thoughts. Their marriage was on the rocks. He wanted to sell up but she did not. She had lost her well paid job (very well paid) so the agent was keeping her fingers crossed. She did not want to pressure them until the Spring. On the 1st of March, officially the start of Spring, I contacted the agent. She did not consider that Spring had just sprung by then and was still muttering about not pressurising this couple. We left a note through Aggi’s letter box saying that we were still more than interested. Aggi rang us a half an hour later and said she was delighted and she was looking around for other properties but there’s not a lot out there. Tell us about it! So while you don’t like to see marriages break up, which line the pockets of the lawyers and produce damaged children and what have you, there are some of us waiting in the wings who do not wish our own dreams dashed.
Home buying is a delicate house of cards at the best of times particularly with a chain and the certainty that nothing is binding until contracts are exchanged. But in these times of great uncertainty and huge national debt it seems unattainable. Meanwhile our agent remains in her expensive office and her website has only had two additions in the last 10 months – Aggi’s house and the one at the top of our chain. I idly wonder whether the agent can ride the storm and how she passes her days. Alistair Darling’s budget yesterday will not move things along any faster for us and no-one really wants to do anything until the election. The country is holding its breath and we cling on to the dream of this house. The daffodils made a late appearance this year just a few days ago. Maybe now it’s time to ring the agent and see if she judges whether Spring has arrived.
So we went back to our agent with the good news. Tell Aggi, we chimed, that we are good buyers. We have sold. But, the agent was having difficulty. Her couple at the top of the chain were having second thoughts. Their marriage was on the rocks. He wanted to sell up but she did not. She had lost her well paid job (very well paid) so the agent was keeping her fingers crossed. She did not want to pressure them until the Spring. On the 1st of March, officially the start of Spring, I contacted the agent. She did not consider that Spring had just sprung by then and was still muttering about not pressurising this couple. We left a note through Aggi’s letter box saying that we were still more than interested. Aggi rang us a half an hour later and said she was delighted and she was looking around for other properties but there’s not a lot out there. Tell us about it! So while you don’t like to see marriages break up, which line the pockets of the lawyers and produce damaged children and what have you, there are some of us waiting in the wings who do not wish our own dreams dashed.
Home buying is a delicate house of cards at the best of times particularly with a chain and the certainty that nothing is binding until contracts are exchanged. But in these times of great uncertainty and huge national debt it seems unattainable. Meanwhile our agent remains in her expensive office and her website has only had two additions in the last 10 months – Aggi’s house and the one at the top of our chain. I idly wonder whether the agent can ride the storm and how she passes her days. Alistair Darling’s budget yesterday will not move things along any faster for us and no-one really wants to do anything until the election. The country is holding its breath and we cling on to the dream of this house. The daffodils made a late appearance this year just a few days ago. Maybe now it’s time to ring the agent and see if she judges whether Spring has arrived.
Monday 22 March 2010
Cab drivers and ex-husbands
We ran into Jim in the local last week. Jim is one of life’s gregarious types and he was in a good mood. His team were doing well and he had a good round on the golf course. But then he remembered the alternator. It cost him £350 this week. Alex asked him how business was. His usually smiley face clouded over. It’s really not good. There’s no business out there. Jim drives a black cab. He gets up at 3.00am and heads for the airport. It’s all these mini cabs he explained. Ken Livingstone really did us no favours. They are all being driven by illegal immigrants. They don’t pay tax or insurance. All the work at the big hotels has dried up. Take a twenty pound fare he said. By the time I have put diesel in the tank, paid the insurance, paid the taxman I would be very lucky if I got £6 from that fare. They don’t pay anything at all. It’s really not good. Bloody immigrants. To change the subject and lighten his mood I asked him about the rugby. He beamed and puffed up with national pride. We are doing bloody great he crowed. We beat Wales, we beat Italy and best of all we beat England. So triple crown here we come. Well, dear reader, as we now know, Jim’s team (and mine) were beaten by a better one on Saturday. Congratulations, Scotland. Not a good weekend for one immigrant group then.
Sunday is a day of church and rest. But we managed neither. One of Alex’s teachers, Lucy, was in a bad way over her ex-husband’s nuptials and the fact that her children have to attend. So we thought the best thing to do was do a tour of London in order to take her mind of her troubles. Lucy, does not do tubes so we had the challenge of doing London by other means. Our first stop was the new St Pancras station. The outlets have more than a whiff of the continent about them and upstairs the wonderful ceiling evokes the glamorous world of rail travel. Yes, it can be done in style. The larger than life sculptures add to the drama of the setting. Alex and I make a note that we must do a trip across the channel before too long. We bussed to the South Bank and boarded one of the oyster clippers to Greenwich. This was a first for us and its wont to criss cross the river picking up passengers at various stops is a strong reminder of the Grand Canal in Venice.
Lucy bore up well enough as we wandered around the market and had a little Sunday lunch. Stress affects the appetite in different ways. Lucy stops eating, Alex reaches for chocolate while I comfort eat. Back at the Embankment we made our way through the trickle of people on the streets to Molly Moggs. There’s nothing quite like a bawdy London drag show to take your mind of an ex husband getting hitched. And it worked. Several vodkas and Abba singalongs had Lucy dancing again. Then she got a text from her 19 year old. They kids were home. She got tearful again so we cut out of the drag and stopped off at the King’s Head in Upper Street where TJ Johnson, a tight little jazz band, were playing. It wasn’t doing anything for Lucy however as we poured glass after glass of water into her. You don’t want to turn up pissed in front of your kids we said. Sobered up and a couple of more buses later, we had to resort to a mini cab (sorry Jim) for the last bit home.
Glad it’s the working week where I’ll get a chance to rest up a bit
Sunday is a day of church and rest. But we managed neither. One of Alex’s teachers, Lucy, was in a bad way over her ex-husband’s nuptials and the fact that her children have to attend. So we thought the best thing to do was do a tour of London in order to take her mind of her troubles. Lucy, does not do tubes so we had the challenge of doing London by other means. Our first stop was the new St Pancras station. The outlets have more than a whiff of the continent about them and upstairs the wonderful ceiling evokes the glamorous world of rail travel. Yes, it can be done in style. The larger than life sculptures add to the drama of the setting. Alex and I make a note that we must do a trip across the channel before too long. We bussed to the South Bank and boarded one of the oyster clippers to Greenwich. This was a first for us and its wont to criss cross the river picking up passengers at various stops is a strong reminder of the Grand Canal in Venice.
Lucy bore up well enough as we wandered around the market and had a little Sunday lunch. Stress affects the appetite in different ways. Lucy stops eating, Alex reaches for chocolate while I comfort eat. Back at the Embankment we made our way through the trickle of people on the streets to Molly Moggs. There’s nothing quite like a bawdy London drag show to take your mind of an ex husband getting hitched. And it worked. Several vodkas and Abba singalongs had Lucy dancing again. Then she got a text from her 19 year old. They kids were home. She got tearful again so we cut out of the drag and stopped off at the King’s Head in Upper Street where TJ Johnson, a tight little jazz band, were playing. It wasn’t doing anything for Lucy however as we poured glass after glass of water into her. You don’t want to turn up pissed in front of your kids we said. Sobered up and a couple of more buses later, we had to resort to a mini cab (sorry Jim) for the last bit home.
Glad it’s the working week where I’ll get a chance to rest up a bit
Friday 19 March 2010
Sports Day Relief
The man in my dreams made me very happy last night. He told me that he would sort my front teeth out and what's more it would happen as soon as tomorrow. They would knock me out and I would not feel a thing. Woke up feeling relieved. Alex, the wife, was awake ahead of me as normal. Asked her how she felt. She did not sleep well as she was anxious about her meeting today. I offered to swap places with her and win their agreement. She told me I would have to wear red. Why? Cos it's red sports day relief or something. I asked her what she was going to wear. Her Welsh Rugby Shirt she said. To the meeting with the Great and Good I shrieked? As she left she reminded me to feed Blue (our dog). As if I'd forget...
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