I may become a hermit.

Part five and seven eighths. Yep, still in England.

It’s been at least a week, and there has been a deathly silence from both my solicitor (despite a barrage of emails) and the estate agent. It appears my solicitor’s delightful (no, I’m not being sarcastic) secretary is on holidays, so he’s like the husband who puts the dirty dishes in the freezer because he’s never learned to operate the dishwasher, or buys new underwear because the washing machine is beyond him, this is to say, he’s struggling a bit.  Who the hell knows what’s happening with the estate agent…

Now the surveyor… I gave a lot of thought about whether to use the same surveyor that owns the new build. Himself is of the opinion that this surveyor will find every last splinter and leaky washer, precisely because he has a vested interest in me not buying this place… It is pretty much a guarantee of an exhaustive survey. Well I hope it is, because I appointed him. This was also down to a combination of politeness (he was very helpful and accommodating about both soggy cottages) and guilt (because his house freaked me right out!).

Anyway, I set him off on the job with an email, asking for a quote. Nothing. Texted him, got a reply mentioning that he had replied to my mail. Still nothing. Perhaps there is a very confused person with a name like mine receiving complicated and impenetrable emails? Several texts and mails (from me, I still haven’t had one from him) I told the agent to expect a call. This would be the same agent to whom I sent a substantial deposit, with the instructions that I expected the property to be removed from the market. Guess what….?

I haven’t stopped looking at places online. I don’t want to tempt fate. This means that Himself, when he’s around, gets subjected to my occasionally voluble and frequently vitriolic opinions upon the latest properties.  I did do a virtual viewing of one place with a rather exotic name. The price seemed so reasonable as to be unlikely, but as it’s not an auction it’s not a repossession….yet. It’s in the hands of Shorty, so there’s little chance I might be tempted and I strongly suspect it is on the slopes or a mountain which is under cloud cover eighty percent of the time, It’s got more add ons than a superannuated space station, and some of them are almost as futuristic. This looks a little odd next to a three foot thick stone wall on a three hundred year old farmhouse.

I did get overtaken by a wild flight of (beer fuelled?) fancy the other evening. There’s a rather derelict cottage out on an island… There are a few similar but better kept properties on the same island (population 9). None of them have shifted since I started looking, and the price on this place has dropped dramatically (unlike the others). I suspect the prices reflect what the current owners have put into them, rather than what they can realistically expect out of them. Now my own expectations have altered somewhat since the tin roofed cowshed. I have come to realise that I require indoor plumbing as a bare minimum, and things like the absence of leaks and the presence of daylight are important. Nevertheless, assuming that this place isn’t another cowshed in disguise….(actually the island is too bleak and weather beaten to sustain cattle, possibly not even sheep). I had this insane idea. IF I manage to secure chez Hans, then I will have a base from which to operate. I could just buy this shack, do the absolute minimum required to make it habitable (nail boards over the leaky bits, evict rodents, dig out ground floor) and use it as a hideaway, a sort of fixed tent…. And I could let it out to others who might want to get close to nature and escape from it all… Or perhaps I just have an urge to run away from it all….. It’s under the auspices of falling off table man, so it’s probably on the brink of collapse.

 I do occasionally picture myself, wrapped in layers of greasy wool, hair matted to dreadlocks, beachcombing for firewood. Too smelly for anyone to approach…. Bliss J

In the meantime I’m distracting myself by trying to sell the contents of my house in England on eBay. I have far too much shit, much of it abandoned by the kids. There are several items which I almost charity shopped or binned, and they seem to be the ones that do best! I have already suffered several piss takers who ask stupid questions (ad bloody nauseum) and then don’t even bid! A bit like the weird bloke at a local car boot sale years ago… I had a very dodgy wood effect electric fire. To be honest I couldn’t be arsed taking it to the tip, so I threw it in. I put a price of £1 on it, knowing that it would probably explode if you plugged it in. This bloke saw it, picked it up (no mean feat, it was bulky) and waxed lyrical to all and sundry at some length  about what a great bargain it was, before putting it down and wandering away. It never did sell.

The downside of eBay is you start looking at stuff. As I have already indicated, I have far too much stuff (20 years worth). This has not prevented me from fantasising about how I might decorate and furnish the Irish house (whatever it turns out to be). So far I am the proud owner of a prolapsed chaise and possibly an antique French walnut bed. This is in addition to previously existing stuff.

I will be properly buggered if I end up in a mobile home!

The surveyor finally called yesterday. Once again, timing being everything, I was in the middle of nowhere, walking the dog, who was enthusiastically digging for moles and hurling herself into the stream. We had done 10 miles and I was within sight of the pub and gagging for a pint. This was not the best moment to capture my full and undivided attention. As far as I could tell, there are a number of minor problems with the German place, but nothing that can’t be solved by a shovel, a sledgehammer and a bit of polyfilla. I haven’t received the full report (once again there is a bemused person somewhere wondering why they have the survey details of a house somewhere they have never heard of?) so it may turn out that the place is built on a bog with a mineshaft underneath and they have used plasticine to fit the doors and windows….

The details have also been sent to my solicitor, who as far as I can tell is never in the office (maybe he’s off buying more underwear????).