Hightailing around, hootenannies and shuffling off this mortal coil

Wednesday 21 January 2015

6 degrees, misty with sun later

Insisted yesterday that we start at 9.45 and on time.  Relieved to see them ready to roll when I arrived.  We headed off into a village 15 kms away to a property owned by an English couple.  I have had this house for sale for a number of years and the main reason it hasn't sold is the village in which it finds itself.  There are no shops there, not even a bread shop, and it is an equidistant 15 kms from the two nearby towns.  Having said that, it is a charming property with large open lounge, US style kitchen and good sized bedrooms.  The garden is a particular feature and is set to lawns and beautiful flowering shrubs and trees. The lady decides this is now her favourite - she isn't having financial input and it is the man and his business partner who will decide.  The best option if they want to let out periodically is the town house with swimming pool and parking where you can walk into town.  Apart from mistaking a free standing wardrobe for a toilet 'Jesus, my brain has gone' and thinking that the gypsies leaning out of their windows and smoking fags were traders (they probably are but not in anything she or I would wish to buy), nothing untoward was said.

I dropped them back off in my town and went home to clean as there is a visit upcoming on our house and alas it is still in an unviewable state.  Discovered that the bathroom walls have taken the opportunity to grow some mould.  Bastards.   It did come off quite easily.  I then moved onto the grouting, which was like the 'before' example in bathroom cleaner ads. Unfortunately the tile paint came off too.  We decided to tell the visitors that we were waiting for a man to come and do the bathroom.  We won't tell them that the man is OH...  OH spent hours outside with the Karcher.  Dog enjoyed being squirted too.

A number of notable deaths this week, Anne Kirkbride who played Dierdre Barlow for 44 of her 60 years; Leon Brittan former conservative MP and barrister aged 75 and King Abdullah of Saudi Arabia aged 90.

Watched recording of Jules Holland's Hootenanny.   Ruby Turner, Ronnie Specter, Paloma Faith and Paolo Nutini were excellent.  Surprised to find that Boss Scags is not a black guy. OH says I am musical ignoramus.  I challenge him to spell ignoramus.  What a meany I am!

In case you wanted to know more about the origins of the word Hootenanny, and were afraid to ask:

Hootenanny is a Scottish word meaning "celebration" and / or "party", most closely associated with Hogmanay—the Scots New Year celebration which, traditionally, is the biggest celebration on the Scottish calendar.

With the Scots being one of the biggest groups of settlers in the Appalachian region of North America (bringing with them their whisky-making tradition and methods, leading to the area's "moon shining" tradition) it is not surprising that hootenanny became an Appalachian colloquialism, although it became used in early 20th-century America as a placeholder name to refer to things whose names were forgotten or unknown. In this usage it was synonymous with thingamajig or whatchamacallit, as in: "Hand me that hootenanny." Hootenanny was also an old country word for "party". Nowadays the word most commonly refers to a folk music party with an open mike at which different performers are welcome to get up and play in front of an audience.

"Hootenanny" was also used by the leadership of early firefighting battalions to describe a "meeting of the minds" of higher ups or various department heads. The term has trickled down to working companies and is now used, with some frequency, at working incidents and other circumstances that require a focused discussion between key individuals. Most recently it was adopted for use during the annual Fire Department Instructors Conference.  Logistics professionals for the conference employ the word to call together the required personnel needed to accomplish the prodigious assignments placed on them.   Thank you Wikipedia

Somewhat shaken with good news later

Friday 16 January 2015

Misty 4 degrees cold and rain later

Took the dog out early to clear my head.  Really stuffed up and had slept very badly. Glorious morning with tiny wreaths of cloud wrapped around the highest tree branches.  Dog delighted to be out early and ran around happily.  We descended the hill from our house and suddenly, across a large field, two dogs appeared and streaked towards us with alarming speed.  The larger one resembled a Doberman and the slightly smaller one, a mongrel. They halted at the stream, fortunately full from the recent rainfall, and barked aggressively. They have started doing this recently but we ignore them and they stay on their side of the stream. 

I walked the dog on, quickly, but they followed us the length of the stream and their barking became louder and louder.  To my horror, they then crossed the stream and ran across the maize stalks and onto the road.  The dog was pleased and wagged his tail.  He is a moron of some order.  The dogs surrounded him and growled.  The dog smiled and started sniffing their bottoms.  I got to a safe distance and bellowed for the dog to join me and eventually he did, with the other dogs growling and following him.  They must have followed us for a good 200 metres so I arrived home in quite a shaken state.  Would they have been so interested if I had been on my own?  I rang the local police and reported the incident and they promised to go around and see the owner.

Two hours later the phone rang and it was the policeman who was at the owners house.  He passed the phone to me - no client confidentiality here obviously - and the owner told me that her dogs were adorable and not bad at all and I must have made a mistake.  I told her that the dogs were not at all adorable, no I didn't want to come to her house to see how adorable they were, and that I would report her if they did it again.

OH went to local city to obtain building materials and I had peaceful day putting on new properties.  Peace somewhat disturbed when I get an email from the agency saying do I know anything about the collapsed wall.   I ring the notary who updates me to the effect that the buyer has refused to pull out and is insisting that the seller puts the property back into the condition as seen on the last visit.   Later on in the day, I am sent photos.  It is a retaining wall down in the garden - fortunately not part of the house as we would then have had issues with the surveyor as well.  I ring the owner and tell him he needs to get a quote.  He of course doesn't want to get a quote as this amount will then be retained by the notary against the works.  I ring the notary back and ask him to write in no uncertain terms to the seller and tell him what he must do.  Notary confirms that the seller cant back out without having to pay indemnities which are considerably in excess of the value of the wall repairs.

Have cup of tea in garden and smile and say HA!!!  Thank fate for having my back.

Make fire and OH arrives back at the end of five hours shopping and driving.  Update him and then appraise him of my insight, obtained whilst weeding the other day.  When I think of making a sale, I get a sinking feeling in my stomach - a 'here we go again' feeling. Subconsciously I may be blocking making sales because they are so much stress and worry.  OH regards me over the top of his tea cup and says I had better stop it, we need the money.   I give myself permission to make trouble free sales and have help from all quarters from loving people.

Go to bed early and spend night waking up with bone dry mouth.  Don't feel as ill as I used to do when I attraped a non UK cold.  French and Spanish colds used to knock me for six for at least a week.

Being zen gets me let off the hook!

14 January 2015

Pale and clear skies 6 degrees rising to 16 degrees
Sahara air scooped up by weather systems and we are bathed in it

Wake up early and the oh crap monster is banging on my forehead.  I have to clean the house plus the rental unit and all by the end of tomorrow.   Start on the kitchen and get rapidly depressed.  Email client with rental details and feel grateful that some cash is coming into the bank account.

Decide to start on upstairs instead.  Steam the floors and then notice there are cobwebs everywhere so knock them off and then have to hoover them up.  Just starting to feel like I am making progress when I get a call from the notary telling me that she has seen the owner of property whose sale is due for June.  The seller has informed her that part of the retaining wall has collapsed.   I ring the seller and ask him if he can sort it out with his insurer.  He says, no, he has had problems with it for years.  I tell him he will have to get it fixed or it is very likely that the purchaser will back out.  He says he isn't bothered.  I ask him to send me a photo.  He then says kisses and hangs up.

This was a real 'oh crap buggery bastard' moment which if it had happened in 2014 would have led to me committing myself to a small white room.  Last year I would have ground my teeth and hated him intensely.  This year I am zen.  These problems will be overcome.  

This sale was one of two which drove me to tears and complete desperation last year.  The seller achieved what I would not have thought was possible, and found a buyer who is as obdurate as he.  Negotiation went on for four long months before we even got to the signing of the reservation contract.  The seller had 'omitted' to tell me that the local commune wanted significant repayment for the works carried out on the property and initially blocked the sale.  They argued over the price and the agency fees.  They argued over the delay before purchase.  They argued over furniture which was included in the price.  They argued over furniture which wasn't included in the price.  At the end, I was the intermediary down to arguing over the price of the piano.  My hair started dropping out with the stress and anxiety.  I am on commission only and once I get an offer, it is going to go through no matter how much pain and torment I am made to endure.  I was talking to a fellow agent and he said that estate agency was like offering one side of your body and saying 'kick it' and then presenting the other side and asking 'would you like to kick this side too'.

OH rings up to ask me something and I update him on the situation.  He is seriously not zen but at least he has got around the lake with the dog's ears in the same condition as at the start.  He arrives back an hour later and asks me what I have done about the situation. Apparently hoovering was not the correct response.   We decide we will wait for the photo and the quote to come in and deal with one day at a time.

More cleaning after lunch.  Ring client to ask what time she is arriving tomorrow.  She appears surprised to learn that I am expecting her tomorrow as she is not arriving until the 22nd.  This is news to me as I have been heading up all of my emails to her with this weekend's dates.   Breathe huge sigh of relief, change all the appointments for next weekend and then remember I have clients next Saturday to revisit our house.  A week's grace to clean up outside.

Down town to the gynaecologist to have my bits checked out.  The lady is about my age and, as in most medical professionals in France, doesn't wear a white coat.  She is nattily dressed in camouflage trousers.   Apparently I am all in working order.  She also squeezes my boobs.  Hers is not a job I would like to do.  OH says he would happily be paid 28 euros for 15 minutes looking at ladies' bits and squeezing their boobs.   Apparently I should have had a mammogram in 2014 - I dread these and worry that the machine will not stop and squash my boobs flat to my chest.  At least they are done locally and you get the results to take away with you within 10 minutes.

Ring one of my former sellers who has just signed on the sale of her house and find that she has already found a house and is about to sign on it.  It is in an area that you normally can't sell property for love nor money.  Oh well, I hope they are happy there and don't want to resell for a long time.   Lovely swimming pool.

Feel very tired and nose is bunged up.  Football on telly so go to bed early and read Queen Camilla by Sue Townsend.  Hilarious and highly recommended to y'all.

Ghosts, love and tristesse

Tuesday 13 January 2015

5 degrees  crisp and clear skies

Mail out two new properties which have just come to market - the old church house with the scary cracks and one that has been bubbling under since before Christmas, and the owner has finally got around to signing the permission to sell document.  

The latter house is in a gorgeous village with an excellent restaurant, a chateau which opens its gardens for visitors and a beautiful river.  The owners are a couple who came together after having had children with other partners.  They then had some more children. The living room and kitchen are massive and the bedrooms are like cubicles as they all have been divided up.  The garden has been intensively trampled, mined with small plastic objects, and has seen many parties. Each house has its own resonance. This house resonates love from every stone and beam. 

It is interesting that some houses sell immediately and yet others stick.  They can be similar in size and location and condition.  They can be similar in price.  And yet the properties which stick sell for significantly lower prices and take much longer before someone is ready to take the plunge and go for it.   I used to have for sale the house of a notary.  He had left his wife and moved in with his secretary.  The ex wife and the surly children were left in the house.  It was in great condition and a great location and a reasonable market price.  Did it sell? - not for nearly three years.   The basement had the worst feeling about it - the notary kept his guitars there and I felt that he had spent many hours, strumming sad tunes down there.  People would see the house from the outside and see the garden and get really excited.  This feeling would dissipate within 2 metres of entering the front door. They would come out and look confused.   The French summed it up in one word  'triste'.  This was a sad house.

Other houses are eery in the sense that it looks as if the owners just upped and left.  Their knitting is still in the basket at the side of the fireplace, their clothes are still in the wardrobe and, in the cases of the larger old houses, the beds are still made.  There is a certain kind of lumpy old bedding which creates the look I call 'dead people beds'.  Yellow, stained pillows and staring china dolls complete the look.  These houses are as cold as the grave, doors open with a small scream as they scrape on the mouse droppings, floors creak when no one is standing on them.

My one experience of a spirit is when I was showing a house to an English couple.  The lady and I were upstairs looking at the bedrooms.  The man was downstairs, looking at the boiler. We both heard footsteps on the stairs.  The lady shouted out that we were in the end bedroom.  Silence.  I was looking out of the window and saw her husband in the garden. There was no one in the hallway or the stairs or the landing.  We closed the shutters very quickly and went back downstairs.

I attempted to fill in an application form for WF for an insurance apprenticeship.  Was defeated by the 'describe a memorable customer experience' and 'what is your motivation' parts so emailed them back to WF.  Dog attempted to run off with group of walkers so OH took him out.  I went into town and had coffee in McDonald's and met couple of partner agents and showed them a country house with three acres of land.  It is a lot better on the outside than the inside.   The animals had better housing than the owner but you can always change the inside is what I tell clients.  Glorious day with wind up from Sahara and 19 degrees.  Snowing in UK where I used to live.  It is grim up East.

Met with owner of property I had spied on the Internet the other day.  The much vaunted 360 degrees in the ad were, sadly, marred by a number of close neighbours and an ugly half built garage.  The owner spent an entire hour talking and showing the house before telling me that (a) he had just received an offer of 6 percent below the asking price and he had refused it and (b) he didn't intend putting it back on sale until April.

I told him that first offers were often the best and he dismissed this.  Oh dear.  He may well live to regret that decision.

It was phenomenally hot in the house and I had to keep on taking off layers of clothing.  I could feel my eyes drying out.  Escaped after an hour and a half and went to big shop and had coffee and biscuit stuffed with white chocolate.  OH birthday Thursday - got chocolates and Armagnac for him.  OH not in good mood when I got back as I had been out nearly three hours.  He had made me a very long list of people to ring but had, in effect, shot himself in the foot as he had to make supper.

He made Cajun black stir fry chicken with stir fry potatoes and tomato sauce.  Yum!!  Dog then ran off into the night.  OH set off in the car and came back 20 minutes later to find the dog sitting by the back door.   He is in the dog house (metaphorically speaking).

Ice sparkle and advances!

Monday 12 January 2015

-2 breathy curly weather

Up and dressed early and find that the sun has melted just enough ice off the windscreen to be able to leave immediately.   It is a great morning to be alive.  The fields sparkle ice and green and the Pyrénées are a jagged, deep mauve on the horizon.   

Arrive at the house for the revisit before signature of the purchase contract.  The buyers are there already.  Both the owner and I are on pins because the buyers only had one visit before making an offer and they haven't seen the property since last April.   The man looks really ill and the lady tells me that they have had dengue fever (but not before I have kissed them hello).  This apparently involves a very high fever with rash and in the recovery period, joint pains.  The poor man can hardly climb the stairs - he is in his 70's to start with.   Am relieved to feel that the owner has put the heating on.  The last time I was here, the chill went straight to my bones.  I am less pleased to see that when she has taken the light fittings off the wall in the living room, hallway and two bedrooms, she has not even left a light bulb.  The purchasers don't say anything.   She has also repaired the superficial cracking that would have freaked them out. 

Two hours pass, we have a coffee in the local bar and a trio of people from a rival agency come in.  One of them sees me and looks as if she has swallowed a prune.  We had a bit of a set to over three years ago and it looks like she is still bearing a grudge.

Back home for quick lunch then pick up the purchasers and take them into town for the signature of the purchase document.  Technology has arrived in our little town!  The notary had the document up on a television screen, controlled from a tablet, and all the annexes were easily accessed and reviewed.  Big improvement on her technique for the last eleven years, which was to spend most of the time shuffling around the vast amounts of paper involved.  Hurrah for trees!!  Signature was electronic so we must have saved about half an hour and at least 200 pieces of paper.

On arriving back home, look at WF's emails and discover he has secured some work. What a great day this is turning out to be.  Three months work for a national youth helpline and starting on Monday.  This is news to WF as he has not yet got into the habit of opening his emails at the start of the day (and often not by the end either, sigh).   He will be able to buy a new laptop as his current one whirrs like a supersonic heading down the runway.

Find some good new houses to contact whilst prospecting on the private web ads.   Must clean the house for Friday visit.  OH has been out clearing up rubbish and putting gravel in the dips in the courtyard.