journal of a writing man

Thursday February 21, 2008

Is it possible to hate someone on first sound, do you think?

Happened to me last yesterday afternoon when I was phoning estate agents.  The first one was fine. The third one was good, too. But the middle one was the epitome of over-familiar telephone manner, asking irrelevant questions and sounding me out to see if the financial side of the business had any hope of selling me a mortgage and/or taking over every aspect of my financial life. I suspect she’d have sold me a bag of coal had I asked.

“You don’t mind if I call you John, do you?” she said, all bright and bubbly-like.

“Well, yes, actually, I do.”

“Oh.”

Indeed.  Oh.  It’s just as well that you don’t have to like an estate agent.  It may in fact be good policy to dislike them from the very beginning, woking on the likelihood of your hating them by the end of the business.

I got through the chore, however, and we have three appointments lined up, one each on Monday morning and afternoon, and one on Tuesday morning.

“Did I do alright?” I asked Graham who’d been standing across the room listening in.

“How do you mean?”

“Do you think I’ve lost it yet?”

“Nah.  Carry on like that and the business side will be buttoned up, no problem. You do the business and I’ll do the physicals, just like normal.”

“Great.  Just so long as you know that I’m quite happy to resign from the field entirely and leave it all to you.”

“Oh no you don’t.  You’re not getting away with it that easy.”

Other than that, and the reason for leaving the calls so late in the day, we paid a lightning visit to IKEA in the morning, picking up gauzy curtaining for the second bedroom–to soften the blinds–and twigs for the dining room. And to catch an IKEA breakfast, of course.

The breakfast was good but I found myself struggling to finish it. My campaign to reduce my girth by reducing my intake seems to be taking hold. No promises, of course.

We finished the day with a dinner of Swedish meatballs, picked up in IKEA, and followed by the latest episode of Torchwood.  Both were resounding successes.

Today is starting off quiet and slow.  Graham had a bad night and has finally gone back to bed to catch up.  Dolly is flopped against his legs, keeping him company.  I’m doing my best to type quietly.