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 nine pm 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.