For sale at last

Thursday May 12, 2005

I was happily pottering about the house and garden, and on the computer, up early, happy as a sandboy. Dolly was happy, too. At intervals I went to the front window to see if the sign had arrived, becoming more and more impatient as the morning passed and the afternoon ticked away. So I sighed, and turned back to the computer, to work on the links page once more.

“I don’t think we’re going to see the sign today, Dolly,” I said. “No matter, I’m happy enough…”

And then the guy turned up, banged a metpost into the ground, stuck a stout pole into it, and stapled the plastic sign to that. Just like that.

I was talking to G., our neighbour at the time.

“Ah well, G.,” I said, bright as I could. “Looks like we’re on the move at last. Might be a few weeks, might be a few months.”

“It’ll go fast, or you’ll be waiting around best part of a year, on past form.”

“Can’t say I’m bothered either way,” I said. “Spending a second summer here would be no punishment at all so far as I’m concerned.”

“How about Graham?”

“I think he’ll get impatient if it lasts too long.”

And he turned back to tend to his brussel sprouts, boiling merrily for his early evening meal, and I wandered round the house, just to check it was all there, popped back into the kitchen, put the kettle on… And the doorbell rang.

“I hope you don’t mind but I’ve noticed you’ve got your sign up…”

An hour later I waved our first viewer off down the lane.

“Not a bad start, Dolly,” I said. “Don’t think it’ll come to anything but at least it shows the advertising is working.”

She gave me a glare, and demanded water from the tap.

I have a feeling I may be in for a busy weekend.


Stickford, May 12,'05
For sale at last



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