Tuesday 5 May 2015
18 degrees. Fresh with scudding clouds
Terrifically noisy and disturbed night with a gusting wind trying to wrestle the shutters off their hinges. Feel ancient as the alarm sounds and, aargh, it is yet another day.
All the tiles are still on the roof and no trees are down. Only a few birds are tweeting.
Down town for 10 am and do a visit on the big rental unit. Had rather heated discussion with OH as I think we should just accept any offer and get rid of it and he is insisting on 115000. If I am offered 100000 I am shaking hands on it and he can rant all he likes. The couple are waiting for me at the big hotel car park, and surprisingly for this venue, are on time. I take them around the side of the building so they can’t see the gypsies who are lounging on the pavement and smoking. I wish they would get some caravans and sod off. They are the non-mobile variety of gypsy, endemic to our otherwise lovely town. Not a one of them works for a living. I never imagined I would become the sort of person who would think ‘my taxes are paying for people like them to sit around on their backsides and claim benefits’ but there you go, I have and they do. My phone rings and I let the people into the unit and talk and when I catch up with them, they are enraptured. The lady says the unit is superb and the man is smiling and says he will make an offer – probably – but they have other properties to see. I feel quite faint with shock. They are heading back to Nantes on Friday and say they will contact me before.
WF has driving test today. Text him but no response.
In afternoon go south to a pretty town on a river and see an absolutely horrible house which is just about fit to knock down and start again. The owner claims to have spent 182000 euros on it. I really can’t see where it has been invested and have to inform the owner, regretfully, that it is not the sort of thing my buyers would be interested in. The windows were hanging off their frames, nasty floating parquet flooring, bare boards on the floors in the bedrooms, wires hanging out of the walls, partially plaster boarded partitions to finish. It would be a brave person who would take it on. Back home for quick cup of tea then out with young French couple. We see three houses and are approximately ten minutes in each and nothing is appropriate. At least they are decisive.
Finally get hold of WF and he has not passed his test and alas is unemployed again. He is surprisingly upbeat which is more than can be said for OH who is very annoyed and I get all his frustration because he has no one else to express it to. I am far too tired for this so we have words.
Watch The High Art of the Low Countries. There is something about the lovely Graham Andrew-Dixon’s voice which puts me into a coma and I have to go to bed at 10 pm. I could have done without going on holiday – I seem far more tired now than before I went away.