Infamy, infamy! And we are running out of wood.

31 March 2015

Periods of heavy drizzle
13 degrees

We are nearly out of wood and the holidays are two weeks away.  The idea was that we would get back from holiday and not need any more wood because it will be May, and in the way of May, would be lovely and warm.  OH has taken to looking at the old beams in the barn and we may have a reprise of Angela's Ashes over the next few days.  Wet weather continues.  Last May was cold and wet.  The weather has definitely gone downhill over the 11 years we have been out in Europe but has still a way to go to be as bad as it was where we lived in the UK.

I go and see the doctor and show him my itchy elbow and neck and alas, he says it is psoriasis and is often caused by stress.  I have been stressed by sitting in his waiting room for over an hour whilst the previous patient waffled on about nothing in particular and left, looking in the best of health.  He suggests I take up a calming activity such as yoga or meditation.  I say I don't feel that stressed and he says my body is feeling it and showing it. I also show him the strange mole type thing on my chest and he says I will have to go and see a dermatologist and, no, he doesn't think it is a skin cancer.  My mammogram form arrives in the post.  Infamy, infamy; they've all got it in for me....  I google psoriasis and there are some truly revolting pictures.

On the work front, I go back and take on market the beautiful domaine and holiday home property south towards the mountains.  A return of investment of 10% is possible but the buyer will need to have deep pockets to purchase it.  I take the dog with me and we have a stagger around a muddy field.  The options for running off are limited because there is a whopping, pounding river at the end of the field, and barbed wire all around.  Alas, the coffee shop in the next village is closed so I go back home, have quick lunch and then down to the rental units with OH.

OH has been working in the rental unit now since the beginning of the year and it is still a long way from being finished.  I arrive and do some cleaning and then look at what is meant to be going where in the kitchen area.  Basically, there is not enough room to fit in a washing machine and it is going to have to go in the newly created cupboard (now complete with new, narrow door).  We do some measuring and the only other alternative is to move the sink, which is currently fixed to the wall, and with huge holes in the back where OH has made access to the pipes for the washing machine.  I ask why the washing machine pipes are behind the sink and am told I know nothing, and I have never plumbed in a washing machine.  I should have kept a closer eye on this project.  It will never be finished before we go away.  I wanted to put it on market for Easter.  When, and if, we go back to the UK, I am paying registered artisans to do the work in the house, even if I have to work full time to fund it.

The seller of the town house which is the subject of much wrangling by the two buyers rings me with some news.   Her advocate says she must sign with the other agency or she will be in trouble.  My would be buyers send me a letter they have received from their advocate, saying because my buyers are cash and the other ones aren't, then the sellers have a legitimate reason to withdraw from their engagement with the other buyers. Her advocate has asked to see the copy of the reservation contract signed by the other buyers, with the other agency.

A sale that is still lingering from last year has suddenly acquired some life.  The new owner has applied for change of use and the notice has to be posted in the window of the house for 2 months, during which time the Mayor or a bailiff must pass and see that it is correctly posted and then locals have the right to object.  A problem is that the owner's father, who is an alcoholic and either in the bars or asleep, is alone at the house and I cannot rely on him to put up the notice.  The owner's mother is with her adult children in Oz and the owner lives in China.  Great.  I will have to enlist the aide of a local lady who is friends with the family.

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.

It is just not their French dream or why TV programs make my life difficult...

Thursday 26 March 2015

Sunny periods 10 degrees

Woke up extremely early and wrote for a couple of hours and then went back to sleep, with the result that when 9 am came around, I was completely disorientated.  Sat on the sofa with OH and stared vaguely at the TV and we were shocked to learn that the Airbus was deliberately crashed by the pilot, who locked the co pilot out of the cabin and decided not just to end his own life but those of everyone on board - all 150 of them - spread like end of life confetti over the French Alps.  I understand that someone is sad and ill and desperate enough to want no more of it but I don't understand why they need to take others with them. Such as parents who decide to gas themselves in their vehicles and gas their poor children at the same time.

Someone who has been dead a very long time was buried today.  The murderer, Richard III, was interred with honour and respect in Leicester cathedral, after being found under a car park which was the site of a former priory.  No word was said of his killing the princes in the tower.  I would have been there with a placard, protesting.  Only myself and Polly Toynbee seem to be of this opinion.  Have started a petition to bring him to trial.

http://www.thepetitionsite.com/791/575/110/bring-richard-iii-to-trial-for-murder/#sign

Interestingly,people in South America, have signed already.  I will be watching this one with interest.

As the coffee kicked in, I realised that I had said I would go and pick up some keys from a colleague who was going out at 11.45.  Phone said 11.11 (more repeating numbers) so I threw on some clothes, picked up the keys and headed down to the weekly market.  Before I could get there, the phone rang.  The seller of the beautiful llama farm had gone to see her notary and the notary was fuming because the seller had told her to get the reservation contract done today or she would find another notary.   I rang her notary and let her rant on loudspeaker for five minutes before establishing that she was a notary who would get off her backside and do something but that tomorrow was cutting it fine.  The buyers notary had only just sent over the relevant information so she said she would get things under way, I spoke to the seller who agreed to take over the paperwork required by her notary and I finally got down to the market.   Had coffee in the lovely tea shop and an extremely disappointing biscuit.  Did some spontaneous choking on its very dry contents.

Back home and find OH and dog covered in mud.  Have lunch and then go to the hotel car park and lurk and wait for clients.  Every time I organise a meet in this car park, the people are late.  40 minutes later, an airport hire car arrives but not before at least three people have come up and engaged me in conversation and obviously know who I am.  I say 'what is your news and how are you' and try to hide it when it suddenly hits me who they are. Feel rather strained by the time we get to meet the new people.  Prise the car keys out of OH hands and let him do the talking whilst we drive to the first house.

Constructed in the early 30's, it is a great house in a not quite so great location and is very reasonably priced.  The people hmmm and suck their teeth and it is not their French dream. Take them to our big rental unit - they really like this but no room to do a BBQ.  Take them to a beautifully renovated town house with BBQ room to spare in the small garden.  This house is too 'done' and they couldn't put their mark on it (they wouldn't be saying this if they knew just how much making their mark is going to cost them over here), take them to see another renovated house, extremely ugly from the outside, but lovely inside with garden. The stairway and hall is very narrow and the clients fill it.  They feel hemmed in.  OH goes home to make dinner and I take them to a neighbouring large town.

The first house is one that they had actually asked to see.  It used to be the home of the oldest woman in France and has lots of original features, including quite a lot of mould as the owner has been in the UK, enjoying her daughters central heating, since the back end of last year.  They love this.  I then take them to another house in the village which has the main property, built sometime in the early 20th century plus the original tiny 16th century house which is like something out of a Thomas Hardy novel.  A novel hovel if you will.  The roof is new but otherwise, there is a blackened hearth with massive oak chimney piece, beaten earth floor and a stone sink.  They are stunned and say they are ten years too old for this one.

We go for a drink.  They love the houses in this town but they don't love this town.  They love my town so I need to find something for around 150000 euros with outside space.  That is one tall order.  Go back home and OH says I am wasting my time with them and they will never buy anything so we have words and then we have wine and then we do catch up on the emails.

Speak to Russians on Skype.  They say it is -2 during the day.  I am not surprised they want to fly south but hope the weather is better when they arrive.  Heavy drizzle through the kitchen window.  Blue tits and grey tits battling it out on the fat balls.