Shake, shake the ketchup bottle…none’ll come and then a lot’ll

Wednesday June 12, 2002

“Sounds like a good idea to me,” I said when Graham suggested he spend a few days with the Beans in Wild West Wales. “You could do with a break and I’m not busy at the moment anyway.”

“Just so long as you’re sure you can manage.”

“Oh, please…”

So off he went yesterday lunch time, leaving Harry and Dolly and me looking at one another and wondering what I’d done.

“Oh, come on, guys,” I exclaimed. “We’ve done it before, we can do it again.”

I should have known from their steely-eyed reaction that I might, just might, have got it wrong there.

The first sign things were amiss was that I couldn’t settle to anything. Not even my post-lunch nap, and then dinner and evening TV had no appeal at all. And then I couldn’t sleep.

So when the phone rang this morning I wasn’t truly up to speed. And when it turned out to be the agent wanting to tell me we had a good, firm offer to buy the house, I really wasn’t up to speed. “They’d like to view again this afternoon,” the agent said.

Gulp.

I made my way through it, though, and I actually enjoyed showing our buyers round, working out the detail of what goes with us and what stays behind. I hadn’t met them before. Nice, professional people.

“So far as I’m concerned we have a deal,” I said. “We’ll leave the professionals to get the fine print sorted out.”

“Lovely,” they said. “Thank you.”

“No, thank you!“

And that, with a small flurry of typical British over-politeness, was that.

Then, blow me down, the agent rang again with another keen buyer, to view in the late afternoon. “Never hurts to have a fall-back,” they said.

And it doesn’t, either. When you’re selling houses in England it ain’t over till it’s over. Either party can withdraw without penalty right up to the last moment.

I enjoyed showing this one round, too, and she fell in love with the house. We agreed to hold one another in reserve, just in case.

But, I think we’ve done it. I reckon we’ll be heading west into Wild Wales somewhere towards the end of September.

I phoned Graham to tell him the good news of course and much whooping went on over the wires.

“I’ve been looking at the house market here,” he said. “I don’t think we’ll have too much trouble finding one that’ll suit.”

“That’s good,” I replied. “I needed to know that.”

So Harry and Dolly and I had a celebratory dinner.

“It’ll get a bit tough along the way, guys,” I said, lifting my glass in their general direction. “But it’ll be interesting. I’ll promise you interesting.”

They seem content enough.

And I am, too. I know that I shall find the next few months a bit of a strain at times, but it’ll be a good kick up the rear end for me and will do me no harm at all.

I shall keep the journal going, of course, recording the fun as it happens. I doubt there’ll be much in the way of poetry until things settle down again but there should be a fair amount of camera activity.

All in all, not a bad effort for another rainy day.

Wild fuschia