Election fever grips the capital

Mayor of London Boris Johnson

Monday 30 March 2015

13 degrees
Light drizzle followed by heavy drizzle

This made me laugh - although unlikely to have been by the Mayor himself, the wildly shaggy haired Boris Johnson, sadly lacking from Have I Got News for You since he decided to get serious.



So parliament has been dissolved, the General Election set for May 7th and everyone is looking very happy about it

David Cameron, Nick Clegg and Ed Milliband

Ed seems to feel that his genitalia are under threat.  If you are looking for serious political analysis, by the way, you really are in the wrong place.  My analysis of the election will largely extend to amusing pictures and cock ups.

Lots of enquiries and everyone seems to want to come when we are on holiday.  OH takes the idea of moving the holiday very badly and starts waving hands in the air like angry sea anemone.  Say OK we will stick with it.  I cant be bothered with holidays.  I would rather stay here and do some gardening and writing and fiddle around with my crafting stuff but no, we have to spend hours in the car going somewhere hot, stay in a hotel which is stuffy and where I have to listen to him snoring all night, and drink and eat too much.  I usually feel exhausted when I get back, although it is good for clearing up the stress related eczema which is now all over my elbows and neck and driving me bonkers.

My Russians say they will be back to sign the reservation contract on the 14 April and the sellers have found a house in Murcia and, fortunately, they are speaking on Skype when I ring up so I manage to speak to them on broadcast.

Spend the morning trying to find property for the buyer who wanted to buy the house that the Russians have now agreed on, and they reject everything.  The problem is that when people fix on a house, they want to find something else which is identical, and it can take years before they let go.  This happened twice in 2013 and both sets of buyers are still looking.  As Del Boy (Fools and Horses) would say 'fortune favours the brave'.  If you love something, you just have to dive in and then figure out the rest later.  If you are not brave enough to dive in, then perhaps the time and the action are just not right for you.

Go swimming later on in the day and the pool is almost empty, apart from a really annoying woman who swims so fast on her lengths that I am absolutely breathless in trying to keep up with her.  Do my 30 lengths in record time.  She is still shooting up and down the pool like an automaton whilst I take a breather, sit in the bubbles and look at my stomach bouncing about.  I have been eating bread again and look six months pregnant with the two kilos gained right on my front.

A french client contacts me about a house which has just come back onto the market, after having been reserved for a period of six months, at the expiration of which it transpired the buyer couldnt get the loan.  She says she knows the house and loves it but could only afford to pay 90% of the asking price.   It is an expensive house and this represents rather a lot of money.  I ask her if she wants to come and see it again, and she says she will talk to her husband.  This property, a stunning water mill, I used to have on exclusive contract. I found a buyer almost immediately, at a sum thirty percent in excess of what is now being asked.  The seller dilly dallied at paying for the necessary reports and insisted on having their own notaire, with the result that the buyers who had waited a month to sign, had to return to the States.  By the time they got off the boat, they had changed their minds and now we are two years down the road and it is still not sold. A voir, as they say over here.

Watched the end of The Tempest and was surprised to find that I enjoyed it.  OH was in deep sleep.

Things are hotting up!

Wednesday 25 March 2015

Cold and showery 8 degrees

Had some trouble getting started today.  Looked through very long list of things to do and did not feel motivated at all.  Rain.  Looked through the window and told the weather to buck up or no one was going to buy holiday homes.  Put the calor gas fire on and the dog promptly came and blocked the heat.  Moved the dog.  Drank tea.  OH went down to the rental unit.  

The phone rang three times.  People were responding to the advert I had put out last night, asking for beautiful homes with gites and lots of land.  The budget was the honey.  The first respondent lived down in the mountains but it sounded promising, large land, lovely house (he sent pictures) and outbuildings and not too expensive.  He told me the name of the agency he was with and it turned out that they don't actually have any ads on their site. They must pass them on the various property portals.  I couldn't find his house on there either. Not much competition for me then!  Arranged to see him Friday.

The second caller had what he described as a remarkable house in a remarkable position. The price he wanted was also remarkable and his house would have to have its feet in the ocean to realise such a sum.  I said I would keep it on file.  May pass it onto my colleague and see if she can beat a more reasonable price out of him.

The third caller lived in a place so remote that his phone signal kept on cutting out and when I finally did manage to find the ad he had put out, it transpired that it was at least an hour from the nearest shops and my client's llamas would feel they were back in Peru, the mountains were so huge.  My clients live in the South East of the UK.  There is changing landscape and there is changing landscape, but this place would have been a change too far.

I ring some places we found on the Internet yesterday and book in a fabulous one for Sunday.  I am under the cosh to find something as the client arrives on Wednesday and the house he was going to buy is the one taken by my lovely Russian clients.

Towards midday I head down town and meet up with a colleague who shows me a house in centre of town.  It is very ugly from the outside but a complete delight once you are over the front door, with clean modern interior, double garage and enclosed garden.  I recognise the owner as she works on the tills in a local supermarket.  Her husband comes in during the visit and he is extraordinarily beautiful in a Michelangelo way.  He is followed by his two little angels.  They smile shyly and twirl their hair.  I say I will be back tomorrow. Unfortunately I may have OH in tow (;)  

I then take my colleague to a house which is up there with the most visited on my list. Constructed in the 1950's, it is of unlovely appearance and is over 250m2.  It is also divided into two separate apartments and has the most villainous wallpaper I have ever seen.  Dark in colour and wildly beflowered.  Heavy, head cracking, wooden light fittings complete the look.   We go around and my colleague is very enthusiastic and much better at re-imagining the interior than either myself or my many clients.  Make mental notes.

Back home and take the dog for a walk.  The rain has eased up and we are at the head of a very muddy lane, when the dog shoots off down it.  I tear after him and he completely ignores me for at least half a kilometre.  I am too breathless to shout at him and wave my brolly within an inch of his head in such a way that he realises that he has been very bad. He does it again within 15 minutes.   Get back home in very bad mood and tell OH I am not walking that stupid dog any more.

The owner of the house which my Russians are buying rings and says that there is only one house that is suitable for them and if they can't move quickly, they will lose it and then they may have to think twice about selling.  Following the on going nightmare that is the would be buyers and the house down town, I now know that she can't change her mind but I say nothing.  Promise to kick the notaries into shape with great rapidity.  Ring notary who says it is the other notary who is preparing the initial reservation contract.  Ask her to kick the other notaries butt.  The diagnostics guy rings and says the house may be in a flood zone. (it wasn't) and the owner prepares a long list of things to include in sale.  Either the Russians need to come back next week to sign, or they need to sign remotely.  The heat is on.  My neck starts to itch and I realise the eczema is back.  Oh the joys of estate agency.

I have another message on the phone relating to a house but the caller hasn't left their number so I have to ring through all the incoming numbers on the phone before I finally get to him.  It takes some time as some of them are pleased to hear from me and some have an axe to grind.  It turns out to be happenstance.  Yesterday, when I went to see the vast property with all the rooms, the owner had said that his neighbour was also selling, and had given me the name and the town.  I had then rang all four people of this name and found the seller who said she had it on exclusive contract with a friend and wasn't interested in selling with me.  The person who rang me today is an uncle and he is also thinking of selling his house in my nearby town.  Booked him in for Monday.  Must change answerphone message to insist people leave their telephone numbers.  I am not psychic.

Make chili and sort out the running order for tomorrow's visits.  Talk to two people who want to rent our little rental unit over the summer and get them booked in.  Feel very tired and hit the hay early.

Drooling over the New Look and Christian Dior

Thursday 19 February 2015

Brilliant blue skies 6 degrees warming to 16 later



A good to be alive day with many small birds tweeting and a blackbird tink tinking on the roof of the barn.  Fuelled by tea, I leaped out of bed, informed OH I was going down town and to my surprise, he hauled himself up too and surprised the dog by accompanying us part way along the road to town before getting out for a walk.

My trousers are 'descending' as the locals say, so went to the charity shop to see what was on offer.  Found a brown leather belt, a white leather belt and a rather strange yellow crocodile effect one, complete with Radley style dog badges.  I could hear the voice of Del Trotter in my head, saying 'wear that one, gel, and you'll knock 'em bandy'.  Three euros. Cant go wrong at that price.  There was a ravishing, full length wool coat but it was brushing the top of my shoes.  I looked like I was standing in a hole.  'Ah' said the German lady who helps out there 'you need to be taller'.  She was, of course, much taller than me and looked really good in it.  

Sometimes I find brilliant things in this shop - a beautiful tapestry jacket with exquisite buttons and from some snazzy Parisian boutique, Per Una blouses from the days when Per Una was still pretty and floaty, heavy cotton sheets that pin OH down and stop him stealing all the covers from me on a chilly night.  Today, there was a lot of tat and faded bling.  The German lady was sifting through a bag of china figurines, of the type which are included in the three kings cakes and lie in wait to break the teeth of the unwary.

King Cake (Northern style)

King Cake (Southern style)

The cake traditionally celebrating Epiphany in France and Quebec is sold in most bakeries during the month of January. Three versions exist: in northern France, Quebec, and Belgium the cake called galette des rois (which can be either circular or rectangular) consists of flaky puff pastry layers with a dense center of frangipane or apple. In the west of France a sablé galette is made, a form of sweetcrust pastry. In southern France - Occitania, Roussillon, Provence, Catalan where it´s called tortell - the cake called gâteau des rois or royaume, is a torus-shaped brioche with candied fruits and sugar, similar in its shape and colours to a crown. This later version is also common to Spain and very similar to New-Orleans king cake.

Tradition holds that the cake is “to draw the kings” to the Epiphany. A figurine, la fève, which can represent anything from a car to a cartoon character, is hidden in the cake and the person who finds the trinket in his or her slice becomes king for the day and will have to offer the next cake. Originally, la fève was literally a broad bean (fève), but it was replaced in 1870 by a variety of figurines out of porcelain or—more recently—plastic. These figurines have become popular collectibles and can often be bought separately. Individual bakeries may offer a specialized line of fèves depicting diverse themes from great works of art to classic movie stars and popular cartoon characters. The cakes are usually sold in special bags, some of which can be used to heat the cake in a microwave without ruining the crispness of the cake. A paper crown is included with the cake to crown the "king" who finds the fève in their piece of cake. To ensure a random distribution of the cake shares, it is traditional for the youngest person to place him- or herself under the table and name the recipient of the share which is indicated by the person in charge of the service.

Formerly, the cake was divided into as many shares as there were guests, plus one. The latter, called "the share of God," "share of the Virgin Mary," or "share of the poor" was intended for the first poor person to arrive at the home.

The French President is not allowed to “draw the kings” on Epiphany because of the etiquette rules. Therefore, a traditional galette without figurine or crown is served at Elysée Palace in January.

The market was quite busy for Winter and to celebrate, two of the cafes had decided to close for the day.  Was obliged to go to Croaky Joe's and had to sit inside as the terrasse was packed.  Was amused to listen to a group of Brits who had had to come and sit down to recover from the shock of the cost of cheese on the market.  They were looking glum and the woman was not helping things as she looked at the weather on her phone and told her family that it was going to rain for the next six days.  

The woman had some experience of living over here and remarked that the locals were not at all interested in hearing about personal problems.  I reflected on this - it is true that they never, ever discuss their private lives or those of their relatives, with their work colleagues. You have to become an extremely close friend of someone before they will say anything and even then, it will only be occasionally.  The great British tradition of having a bit of a gripe when you are fed up, just doesn't happen.

I was just about to try and insinuate myself into their conversation - you never know if they are looking to buy or sell - when OH rang up and informed me that he had gone on an alternative walk and was no where near home and could I come and get him.

Back home for early lunch.  Those bloody ISIS people are still killing and blowing people up. Deaths in Copenhagen and Egypt.  Russian bomber planes chased away from coast of Cornwall by RAF.

After lunch, I was required to assist with wood cutting duties.  OH extended a long line of cable and put up the horse and started cutting the pieces of stacked wood in the far shelter. He must have cut about four large logs into chunks when the chain came off.  He rested the chainsaw on his knee and tried to get the chain back on.  No joy.  He then moved to a tree stump.  Again, no joy.  He moved into the kitchen and I loaded and stacked the logs.  An hour later, the chain was still refusing to tighten and I said I had had enough of playing with the chainsaw and wanted to go swimming.

OH decided he had not had enough frustration for the day, and I left him to battle with getting pod casts onto his Ipod.  

Took the chainsaw to the local DIY store and the guy in there performed the same operation as we had been doing for the past hour and a half, and the sodding chain tightened immediately.  He then undid it, and it refused to tighten.  I left it with him.

The pool was busy with annoying rugby players who didn't look where they were going and small children who didn't get out of the way.  I have now taken to swimming into people too. When in Rome, etc.   Practiced eye exercises whilst swimming up and down.  Wonder how long it takes before you 'see' the effect?

GBSB was brilliant tonight.  First task was to remake a 50s classic 'Walkaway' dress which, apparently, one could whip up in a morning before going out to lunch with friends.  Morning, for me, would have to start at just after midnight.  Lovely stylish shape to the dress.  Remake challange involved taking a pair of curtains and turning them into something wonderful.  All without patterns.  Very impressive.  Lastly they had to make a 50s garment in sheer material.   Nightmare to sew and the winner was a very stylish blouse.

Some exquisite Dior dresses showing the New Look.  Gave me goosebumps

 this lady seems to have accidentally been given a lampshade to wear.
 can you just imagine how fabulous this would be to wear?  How it would swish as you walked?

 the lampshade is back.  This was a core day ensemble of the New Look - love the contrast of the black gloves and the white shoes
 is there anything more elegant than full length gloves?  I think women today have a completely different shape from women in the 40s and 50s.  No one now has the shape of the model in the black ensemble.