It should have been dead but it won't lie down.... with throwing of proverbial hats in the air much later on.

Monday 16 March 2015

Sunny and 17 degrees! Yay Spring at last

I spent most of the morning on the phone with a sale that should have been dead but is refusing to lie down and keep quiet.  

First thing, I ring the head of the agency and she says that because the other agency has signed their buyers and the sellers have co-signed, that any tribunal would go in their favour and my people are too late.  I put the phone down and it rings.  

It is the seller.  She has been talking to the notary I recommended, rather than the one she habitually uses, who only answers his phone for two hours a day.  He is really not that busy and needs to look through the window and notice it is the 21st century.  The notary has said that my buyers may also have a claim because they made a written offer on the 4th March (wtf?  this is the first I have heard of this) and also have had reports done on the roof and the termites (more wtf?).  The notary says the situation is grey rather than black and white. I am sure there is a part of the notary's training on being non committal.  It is probably part of the 'Pass the buck' module.  Both my buyers and the other buyers can state that they have right to purchase and it could go to the Tribunal to decide.  The Tribunal means months of delay.  The seller is manic.  The notary had also told her that if she had gone via me rather than trying to negotiate it herself, then things would have been done correctly. Allowed myself wry smile.

I point out that my buyer has shown himself to be extremely tenacious and she says that he and his wife have been ringing and emailing her for days.  I also point out that he has the time and the money to pursue things to the bitter end.  Would the other couple, who are young and hopefully less bloody minded, also want the time. anguish and not inconsiderable expense of taking on an avocat.  She said she would talk to her partner and they would make a decision.   I put the phone down and it rings.

It is the notary.  Happily, we have just bought a phone which is cordless so I am able to make coffee, do violent gesticulations at the dog who is trying to head off down the lane, and settle myself down with notepad and pen whilst she is talking.  It transpires that the acceptance of the offer of the 4th March was done orally and there is no trace by voicemail, text or email of its existence.  She wants to know if I have any emails or anything else confirming that the sellers agreed.  I say I only have one email and it says that they do not accept the offer and that I was late on the scene.  She says they will have to make a decision and it could end up in court.   I put the phone down and it rings.

It is the would be buyer's wife so I update her with this morning's conversations.  Other phone calls include a very insistent company trying to sell me frozen food because I am such a busy working woman.  Someone else who wanted to tell me about how I could better use the pension I am receiving was surprised to learn that I am still working.  At your age? She said.  Yes bitch.  You bet I am.

The seller rings back and says they have just emailed the other agency to withdraw.  He rang them immediately and was very annoyed.  They had words.  He said he would talk to his notary (good luck with that one - it is the one who doesn't answer his phone) and get back to them.  He rang them back later and said that they should get an avocat.

Discover the dog has taken the opportunity to run off and have to get in the car and find him. He is a total moron.  For the first 11 years of his life, he didn't run off.  Now he does it at all possible opportunities.

I unplug the phone and we watch Bargain Hunt and have corned beef sandwiches with brown sauce and rocket salad. It is a moment of sanity in an otherwise insane day.  

Early afternoon I go to see the English couple who found me in the phone directory (we thought you might speak English).  Their phone call was a real surprise as I am just listed under my name with 'estate agent' as a label.  The first time in 11 years anyone has rung me from this source.   The property is in a neighbouring departement and is typical of the regional style with long sloping roofs and a large central hallway with rooms off.  It has a holiday home feel.  In a full time home, the furniture, fittings, pictures and paraphernalia accrete over a period of time.  Holiday homes, everything is bought together and then spread over the rooms.  There were pictures that you really wouldn't want to look at on a regular basis.

It was basic but the rooms were flooded with light and there was a barn which was large enough to convert but not so huge that it is a money pit.  Would it do for the clients of last week, now in a state of 'complete indecision' because they loved the house but not the road. Stood outside and listened.  Road about the same distance away as the other house but shouldn't carry as much traffic.   Discussed the price and they said they would talk to the children and get back to me.

Go for a swim and not very many people in the pool.  Bliss.  Do my regulation 20 lengths and sit in the bubbles and bob.

Back home and OH has fishing stuff everywhere.  My hoard is nothing on his.

There are many messages on the phone but it is time to Skype my Russian clients.  They appear on the screen, with angelic golden haired children who say hello and eat large, juicy looking apples.  They want to buy the house they drove 3500 kms to see.  They want to buy it cash with no messing around.  We are all very, very happy.  Behind them, through their kitchen window, the light fades and night falls.  They say it is below zero.  I say it is still light for at least a couple of hours and it is 15 degrees.  Mica says not to worry, he has not got cash from criminal activities.  This is what you must call Russian humour.

I ring the owners who have been on pins.  I tell them the good news and expect to hear sounds of joy.   They are shell shocked.  They have to move country with a large herd of animals.  They are thinking 'oh crap.  This has suddenly got real'.  I am deflated at their reaction so OH gives me alcohol, the universal cheerer upper.

He rustles up spicy stir fry chicken and disappears to watch football.  It is now late and I feel on my last legs but have to do VAT return.  Collapse to bed.

Eastern charm and llamas

Thursday 12 March 2015

Cloudy with slight drizzle warming to sunny periods later
14 degrees

Wake at six to write as I am getting behind on my vow to write every day.  The discipline of waking, making tea, sniffing the morning with the dog through the back door and then heading back to bed with the laptop is a daily rigour to which I have well adapted and look forward to.

Awaken OH at seven thirty and we are away and heading off into the new day by eight, with the suns rays glancing off the windscreen and the heat of our bodies misting up the glass. The motorway is clear until we approach the capital city.  The GPS recommends coming off at that point but OH wisely decides to carry onto the next exit.  Looking over at the A roads, they are crammed.  We finally come off and have to look for a bar.  Travelling with a man of a certain age is reminiscent of journeys with the boys when they were little.  When they had to go, they had to go.   I text the clients and say very sorry, we are running a little late and have a coffee whilst OH is otherwise engaged.

20 minutes later we arrive in the town and wait in front of the nattily appointed Tivoli Hotel. Built in the early 20th century it is a solid, rectangular building with a matt pink facade.  The bedroom balconies have beautiful metal basket guard rails and the roof is angular and decorated with intricate metalwork. 

'What is the guy's name'? asks OH 
'Mica' comes the reply, over my shoulder.  

We turn and see a man as tall and pale as a silver birch, with fine blond hair and baby blue eyes.  He is smiling nervously and is casually dressed.  Mica (name changed) wife emerged from their Russian car.  She was also slight and pale with shoulder length wavy chestnut hair but more eye level for me and shook hands shyly. She was wearing a floaty Indian top with shiny inserts and open toed sandals and many crystal bangles.

I like to dress according to the client and it also gives me confidence.  However, I don't always get it right.  When getting dressed this morning, I had channeled my inner Russian and was wearing black and grey striped trousers, subtly shiny Per Una Blouse, bright yellow belt sporting one or two metal west highland terriers, shrimp pink scarf and sage green woollen jacket.  I was somewhat off the mark.  

We were stunned that they were in their own car and asked how long they had taken to get here 'three days' was the response.  They had left home where it was -5 and had driven through Russia, Estonia, Latvia, Germany and France.  'it was an adventurous' they smiled. We all then got back into our respective cars and went to see the property.

Typical of the region, the buildings are laid out around a large central courtyard which has been planted with herbs and roses and is where the owners do breakfast and afternoon teas.  The house is rectangular and has a low pitched orange tiled roof.  The facade is faced with river stone pebbles taken from the large rivers which run through the department. Behind the courtyard, the land extends for acres towards the far trees and is dotted with the beautiful cream and fluffy creatures that give the house its name.  They come over to see us and their nostrils flare and suck in the air that carries our scent.

OH stays in the kitchen and talks to the owners and I commence the visit.  This is a property which is a delight to visit but even so, I have never had such appreciative clients.  As each door opened and the room was revealed, they emitted gasps of wonderment.  'it is so beautiful' 'it is much better than even photos'.  The lady owner then comes to show us the bed and breakfast part and then her workshop.  She spins and dies the wool from her animals and is also a knitwear designer.  

For a passionate crafter like myself, going to this property is not work.  The wool is ranged over a long series of shelves and is of many hues.  The dies are taken from materials that are foraged over the local area and over the seasons.  There are creams, pale sage greens, berry red and purple, fern and cinnamon tones.  I stroke them and think, if I sell the property, would she be prepared to give me a good price.  This type of wool is astonishingly expensive to buy normally and to have enough to make a shawl, would be quite an investment.

We then go to see the livestock and the animal housing.  The boys come up to see us and submit to stroking.  Their wool is dense and soft as a shag pile carpet.  They are tall, close up, and they look down at me, their faces surprisingly small compared to the thickness of their necks.  I spot OH in the courtyard, watching with interest as two cats sort out their differences in a particularly violent fashion.

 At one point I am surrounded and the owners says 'dont get behind them - just push your way through'.

Two hours later and we are back at the Tivoli and have a long talk.  I ask them what their plans are, now that they have arrived, and they say that they just came to see this house and are now heading back home to speak to their children.  At the car, they give us presents - a bottle of spiced rum and a pretty dish bearing the name of their town.  At the last minute, the lady (who is a reiki teacher) presses a rose quartz crystal into my hand.  We go and have a McDonald's and reflect that there are good and lovely people out there and we have just been fortunate enough to spend a morning in their company.

Tonight is the GBSB Final and it is the rank outsider who wins, largely because the other two contenders, who have been stronger all the way through, had a rush of blood to the head and made utterly bizarre garments which were ugly and unstylish.

Lorna made what was a beautiful dress with long overskirt but then put on enough purple tulle to satisfy a Transylvanian transvestite.  Neil presented a never before seen garment to the world for the alteration challenge - it is not wearable said the judge, sniffily.  He then made a dogs dinner of a dress which didnt fit well and was of a number of materials which didnt sew together well.  It was as if they had thrown away the chance to win.

Matt's winning dress was truly avant guard - so much in fact that his very petite wife had trouble walking over to the judging.  It was however beautifully executed and stylish.