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.
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