Wednesday January 4, 2006
If you’re ever in Spilsby at about 8:30 in the morning, Monday to Saturday, pop into the bakery section of Somerfield’s mini-supermarket and treat yourself to a couple of the best, fresh-baked croissants available for miles around. You can go outside to the town square and scoff them still hot from the bag, or take them back to enjoy them at home. Which latter is what I did this morning, to my undoing.
See, a large mug of coffee and two delicious croissants were quite sufficient to put me into ‘must sleep, must sleep now‘ mode. Well, I had been up and about since 5:00 am.
So I dropped my duster, postponed stripping the bed, and slipped under the covers. Just for a mid-morning nap, you understand.
I woke abruptly as the telephone rang less than an hour later. It was the house agent.
“We have a hot prospect for you. A couple who’ve sold their house and need to move urgently. They’ve seen your house on the Internet and would really like to view it.”
“Now? They’re parked outside your gate.”
“Oh, shoot. Yes, of course. Could you ask them to wait five minutes so’s I can wake up properly, and tell ’em they’ll have to take me as they find me?”
“Count it as done.”
I heaved myself out of bed, rushed round the house picking up stuff and turning on crucial lights. Wasn’t time to clean Dolly’s litter tray, or stow it away.
Anyway, they loved the house, and were much relieved to learn that we can meet their moving date of ‘mid-February’. Apparently they’ve ‘sold’ their house to a woman from New Zealand who is returning to the UK this weekend, and who wants to exchange contracts next week.
“My solicitor can do that if your solicitor can,” I said.
I think they’re honest enough, certainly not carpet treaders, but they’ll have to get their skates on to exchange contracts on this place next week. It would be a cash deal but even so, it takes time for solicitors to exchange papers and carry out searches. It can be done, though, and Sally our solicitor can do it if anyone can.
We shall have to see. They want to see some other properties before making up their mind, but they’ve asked if they can view again before the end of this week. And, like I tell novices in the house selling business, you ain’t sold until you’ve exchanged contracts.
“Gosh, Dolly,” I said. “That was a bit hectic, wasn’t it?”
She rolled over so’s I could give her tummy a scritch, and purred her approval. Graham probably did much the same when I sent him a text. “Call me!” he texted back, and that’s what I did.
“Mustn’t count chickens before the milk is spilt,” I said, “but you have to admit it’s exciting.”
I had my wake-up coffee, stripped the bed and re-made it, started the washing machine to churning, and went round the house with a duster. A light lunch of tomato sandwiches followed and then I curled up on the day bed with my comfort blanket pulled over me and Dolly nudged to one side to make room.
“I could do with a snuggle, Dolly,” I said. “It’s been a funny old day already and it’s only half-done.”
She might have made some kind of response but I was asleep before I had a chance to find out.
I was just on the point of leaving to pick Graham up when he phoned to say his train had broken down and that he’d be delayed until 19:23. I gave him the appropriate sympathy and promised to have a bottle of Jacob’s Creek ‘Reisling’ good and cold to make up for the aggro.
“Great. That’s the way to do it. See ya.”
“Good Golly, Miss Dolly,” I said as I put the phone down, “what a funny old day it really is turning out to be.
Back home and properly greeted, we settled down to what was left of the evening. I watched the final episode of Rome—excellent series—on BBC TV while Graham cleared his email backlog, and we had a late dinner of lasagne and cherry tomatoes.
It wasn’t long before my head was nodding. Not surpising really because the establishment was happily complete once more, my tummy was comfortably full, and nice, crisp clean sheets tempted me bed-wards.
“Think I’ll toddle off,” I said. “I’ve had a hard day.”
“You do that. You’ve all done very well.”