Tuesday February 28, 2006
So, then, this is when the waiting game swings into its final, most frustrating phase, starting with the day on which we should have exchanged contracts but didn’t.
“Shall we be exchanging today, Sally?” I asked when the clock had ticked over the mid-day mark and we’d grown tired of waiting.
“Haven’t heard anything. I’ll check and ring you back.”
The checking took about thirty minutes, the phone rang, and I was informed that the formal mortgage offer hadn’t been received by our buyer’s solicitor yet so exchange would have to stay on hold until it turned up.
“Anything I can do, Sally?”
“No, John. You could get your estate agent to stir things up if you like.”
“Nah. Not yet. We’ll wait patiently for a while. Thanks, Sally.”
I gave vent to a loud GRRRRRR! when I’d put the phone down, and then explained the situation to Graham, who’d been waiting anxiously in the wings.
“See what you mean with the GRRRRRR!,” he said.
“So what shall we do about it?”
“Nothing. Sit back and wait. And don’t worry.”
But you do worry, don’t you? Try as you may to get on with the business of the day, your thoughts return constantly to the question, wondering what if…
“If we ever do this again I’m going to run away and hide,” I announced. “And stay hid until you call me to let me know it’s all done.”
“We’d better not do it again, then.”
“I may well hold you to that.”
But I would not, of course. Life is full of changes and you have to go along with them even when, like today, you really want nothing more than to to be able to run away and hide.
|“Light’s a bit gloomy,” I said, pulling
over to the side of the road,
“but take a snap of the windmill for me, please.”