Wednesday October 26, 2005
The drive down last Wednesday was a much happier affair, with Graham navigating, Dolly sitting quietly, most of the time, in her traveller, with both Graham and me taking it in turns to give a a scritty-scrat through the bars and a few quiet words of reassurance.
She was an absolute star once more. No mess, not a trace of it. She made up for it when we got into the caravan, though, demanding food, water, and her litter tray, in that order. Then she made a second, more thorough survey of her temporary home, doing the ‘this is mine… this is mine… this is mine’ thing until she’d laid claim to all the available space.
The only snag with the trip was the weather. About half-way, we drove into the first of several rain belts, gradually joining together until the sky was a uniform, sulky grey, damp, and challenging the optimisim of a saint.
It stayed that way for practically the entire week, too, wet, or windy, by turns, with only the tiniest scattering of sunny periods. We made a couple of trips to Taunton for Starbucks, and clothes shopping, both very successful. Other than that, Dolly and I spent most of our time snuggled up in the caravan, me watching junk TV or reading, Dolly snoring happily. And Graham? Working hard, and long.
“It’s not a lot of fun for you this time,” he said, genuinely concerned.
“Don’t you worry about me,” I said. “I’m fine. Dolly’s fine. Both of us are enjoying a feet-up, do nothing break.”
“Just so long as you’re sure.”
Then, Graham caught a Somerset cold. Followed by my picking it up, starting yesterday. We’re both pulling through it fast and easy, Graham leading the way, and working straight through without pause. I’m not having such an easy time of it and I’m needing to keep a close watch on my chest, just in case.
Not so bad overall, though, and I was set on staying out the whole period.
Then, yesterday, my mobile phone rang. It was the house agent.
“We’ve sent out the revised leaflets,” he said. “And we’re getting a good response. One couple in particular would like to view sometime pretty soon.”
“Give me twenty-four hours notice and I’ll be waiting at the door for them.”
“Right. They have a couple of questions…”
We rattled through them and he promised to get back to me.
Did, too, this morning. “There’s a second couple very interested,” he said. “Sold their house, would like to view yours at 3:00 p.m. on Monday.”
“Right. I’ll be there. Sounds like things are hotting up.”
“Well, no promises, but yes, it is encouraging.”
“I think it’d be a good idea for me to wind up here in Somerset and get back home in case there’s a flurry at the weekend.
“That’d certainly help.”
“Okay. I’ll get myself on the road this evening or tomorrow, and ring you to let you know when I’m back.”
Graham had been listening closely, and with great approval.
“I hate the thought of you going off on your own,” he said. “But we don’t want to miss the chance of a sale. I’ll be sure to catch an early train on Tuesday and get back to help.”
So, acting on that thought, we popped my case in the boot, Dolly on the back seat, and I set off at about six this evening, just as it was turning dark.
I made pretty good progress—just under six hours instead of the more usual seven. By the time I’d unpacked the car, let Dolly out of her transporter and put down fresh food and water for her, it was just about midnight.
The house had stayed clean, dust-free and neat as neat, just as I’d hoped, so I shall not have to do too much in the way of cleaning before I pick up the phone to the agent tomorrow. I think that my cough would appreciate a bit of a rest, though, so I plan to take it easy tomorrow, declaring myself ready for viewers from Friday onwards.
All in all, it was a good break, but I’m glad to be home again. So’s Dolly. And Graham will be, too, on Tuesday.