Friday, November 6, 2015

Thoughts on seasons, a bolt in the neck and a little breakdown....


Thursday 5 November 2015

Bonfire night UK - it rained a LOT over here
Lovely day again - how long can this continue?

I am part of a group where they are running a Secret Santa gifting for Christmas and one of the questions posed was 'which is your favourite season'.  I replied Winter and I think there was only one other Winter lover amongst all of the other contributors.  Most said Summer or Spring.  They cannot have the mammoth garden that I do.  Spring means having to get it in order and Summer means having to try to keep it in order.  And getting my head boiled in the process.  I really don't feel up to it any more.  I want to be doing other things.  I love Winter for the purity of the landscape; the bare branches of trees, small animals rustling in the sticks of the cut maize, birds imprinted on the dizzy high clear skies, wood smoke in the air, wrapping up in woollies, big roaring fires, burning leaves, the sense that everything is hibernating, snuggling down under my duvets.  

Down town early this morning to open up the little rental unit for a visit by a local agent.  She was young and very well turned out and was wearing fawn coloured hot pants with black tights and mini boots and black jumper.  I would have looked like a bag lady but she carried it off very well.  She looked keen and enthusiastic.  I wondered how long she has been doing the job.  I unpacked my smile and charm, jaded as they are, polished them up, and helped her to do the visit.  I got a call an hour later, telling me that the woman had really loved the apartment, despite the many and varied criticisms of her mother.  However her budget is only 60k including notary fees.  Our selling price is 66800 plus notaries.  I don't see how she is going to magic the extra money.  She looked worn down and had a tatt of a bolt on her neck.  It was not a good look.  Her mother hated the place and couldn't wait to get out.  

OH said we are not in a rush to sell.  We don't want to risk being classified as professional revendeurs and having to pay 20% VAT out of the sales price, in addition to the capital gains.

Home for lunch and then pick up a couple who bought recently and take them to sort out their telephone, internet, mobiles and health insurance.  They still have very little furniture in the house but they do have a phenomenal amount of S's clothing.  She is never not fabulously turned out.  From Africa.  A huge personality with dreadlocks and bright red lipstick and very bling jewelry.  Grey dress with ravishing lace overdress and pale blue suede boots.  I felt dowdy.

It took many hours and then we went for a quick coffee and they talked about various Spanish towns where they had stayed last year.  They are, like us, lovers of that country.  P, the husband, mentioned one town and S, beaming said 'oh yes, that was where I broke me neck'.  S is wont to come out with surprise statements that make me want to pass out laughing.  Its the way she tells them.  She was sitting there, beaming and looking the picture of health.  When I had recovered, and fortunately S never takes offense at my periodic breakdowns, she explained that the door to the loo and the door to the stairs were next to one another and she had taken a midnight tumble and enjoyed Spanish hospital facilities for a week.

Back home in the fading light and spend an hour trying to get the sodding fire going as there are no firelighters.  OH went fishing.