Sunday, August 9, 2015

Visits in the rain then a hot time in the old town


Saturday 8 August 2015

A day of eights; 8 day of the 8th month and the year adds up to eight - 2+1+5.  According to Google, eight is a feminine number and is associated with manifesting abundance and riches of all kinds - spiritual, emotional and financial.  Certainly this is the best financial year I have had, ever, in my various careers.  I am also more emotionally stable and am looking forward instead of digging over the overflowing wardrobes of past memories and things done wrong.

Up very early, both of us, and down town to meet our enthusiastic client who has flown over from HK for the weekend.  We go and see the first house and it is absolutely tipping it down with rain and the client hates its finishes - he has a particular antipathy for the laminate flooring and says the skirting boards are poor quality and that you can see the joins in the ceilings where the boards have been taped together.  The house is being let to two families and I decided that I am not an untidy person because the state of the house took untidiness to a whole new level.  This house lets really well, surprising when you consider that there is an unfinished pool in the back garden, the depth of which would cause serious injury to any small child who fell into it.  

We leave quickly and drive out into the country and go and see a lovely 18th century house which seems to be viewed more favourably.  The owners sit us down and give us coffee and tell us about when they went around India on a bike and were 'ippies.  They are now in their late 60's and I have trouble imagining the rotund couple in flowery gear and on the back of a Harley.

Suitably refreshed, we head back out into the rain and back into our town and go and see a town house with two apartments.  The steps are covered in moss and we all slide around in our leather soled shoes.  The owner is cooking goulash in a pressure cooker and it smells wonderful.  I am very surprised that the guy likes this house.  The rooms are tiny and teeming with furniture and many personal items.  A boxer dog bounces up and down on the top floor balcony and wags his stump of a tail.  OH and client head off up the hill to look at whatever view is still visible and be chased by the long horned sheep (included in the price but I would love to see how the notary would estimate their value...).  Stomachs rumbling, we find a van selling hot chicken sandwiches and they are delicious.

Finally we go and see a beautiful 1928 villa which is just stunning.  The family are in the long kitchen, eating lunch so we wander around alone, admiring the tall ceilings, arched windows, dove grey walls and cornicing and the view from the balcony.  The man is in love.  The owner then says she has a revisit next week.  Oh bugger; bugger, bugger.  The man says he needs to come back with his fiancée who will love it.  They will need to get over fast.

I leave OH to show him a tiny town house with garage (investment opportunity) and leave to go and meet the clients from earlier in the week.  They are parked on the edge of the big main car park and the rain is now torrential.  I take them to see a picture perfect cottage with beams, big fireplace, exposed stone walls and stunning views (normally).  They are very impressed and talk about how they could make it work for them.  Last but not least, I have a property over towards the big city.  It is 40 kms away and the GPS takes me on the most tortuous route and it takes forever and then I cant find it and have to ring the owner who is convalescing in hospital and eventually we get there and the clients hate it.  We must have only been there about ten minutes.  Back into the car and overrule the GPS and find a main road and back to our main town.  They say they are heading down into Spain for a holiday and will think about it.  Disappointed that they don't want to revisit the one they seemed very taken with the other day.

Get back home to find OH is still out with the client and not answering his phone.  Feed dog. Chafe.  Finally manage to get through on the client's phone and he says he wants to make an offer on the little town house.  Yippee!  Print off offer form and back into town and find them having a beer.  It is festival weekend and town is heaving.  Have a beer myself and then get client to sign form whilst we are all compus mentis.  He is having a rare time.  He is thousands of miles from home, drinking red wine and watching French men dressed as chickens and playing funky tunes on brass instruments.  Why chickens?  Don't ask me.  I know nothing.  They were going down a storm with everyone dancing and pogoing.  Time rolled on and we decided to eat in town so went to a central bistro where we had moule croquettes, pavé de veau and chocolate and chestnut parfait with ice cream.  OH was not even capable of walking straight so I dropped the client off at his hotel and came back home and had to put his drinking mate to bed.  That man knows no restraint when faced with alcohol and music.