Overcast 16 degrees
OH came back last night, late, and car packed to the gunnels with food, garden pots, presents for my upcoming horrifically large number birthday, clothes, parcels, letters, sausage and bacon sandwiches left over from a wedding breakfast where RJ works, newspapers and books. He insisted on bringing it all in to the house before we were allowed to go to bed. From the contents of the freezer box, he had literally and actually brought home the bacon.
I decided not to open any of my presents – birthday and non birthday – just yet as I may be in need of lots of cheering up when the seller finds out that the
US buyers no longer want to buy. When I asked the lady why on earth her
husband had left it so late to announce that he was not leaving the States and
neither was their son, she said she didn’t know. He was being malicious. He also said the town was run down and full
of drunks and disreputable people. That
would be the seller’s father and his mates, two of whom he introduced as ex
cons. Sweet. If only I had been here and not in Spain, being harcelled by the alpaca people and those
bloody Russians. I could have kept them
away from the rag tag and bone men of the town.
I speak to the head of our agency and she says that the buyer’s notary needs to spell out chapter and verse of the consequences of backing out at this stage. My notary says we should give them the weekend before telling the seller. Hopefully they will come to their senses. My poor lady buyer says she is in agony and it is a kind of death for her. I feel sick to the stomach at the idea of the nightmare to come when I tell the seller. His parents have taken a flat and are in the middle of moving out. The buyers are potentially separating.
Go down town for signing of the compromis of the lovely Villa which is being bought by the NZ ladies. All goes smoothly, although it does take absolutely forever. The notary has the compromis up on screen and I think, thank heavens, electronic signature but alas no, more trees must expire with the French obsession for printing stuff out.
RJ messages me via FB and says the wedding party had a great time – got drunk as skunks on their own liquor, smashed up furniture and left the place in a tip. That’s what you get for letting squaddies from Runcorn loose in beautiful Georgian manor houses, far from home. They were too ill to finish off the sausage and bacon sandwiches so OH had enjoyed them on way down and then dog finished them off. And then threw up (dog not OH).
At I get a call from a former buyer who says he has an Amazon package with my address and his wife’s name on it. Bugger, must change my alias. Said I would go around tomorrow.