Monday May 8, 2006
For one dreadful moment this afternoon I was on the point of giving up and buying a house, any house that was part-way suitable.
Just then, as I was standing in Minehead’s main street, the heavens opened and I was in the midst of a deluge. What to do? Well, in an emergency of the weather kind I find it best to stop, eat, and drink coffee. So I stepped smartly, hardly wet at all, into a nearby café/tearoom and ordered a Somerset cream tea, hold the tea, serve a coffee on the side if you please.
I wonder how many wavering spirits have been rescued and fortified by a Somerset cream tea? It’s not much to look at, just a plain scone, slightly warm from the oven, a dab of strawberry jam and a double dab of clotted cream. Yet, somehow, it can be as calming in its own way as the Balm of Gilead. I sat there, munching most happily, and leafing through the house details I’d picked up on my way. None of them suited and, as the clotted cream reached the parts most in need of nourishment, they suited even less.
So, I dabbed my moustache clean, gathered my bits, and trudged on over to the two remaining agents. Found a house to view tomorrow that looks good but is probably going to be just that little bit short on space, and picked up a few more brochures of houses I’ve seen on the Internet and marked as possible.
Murphy’s Law operates in two ways when you’re househunting. First, you never have quite enough money to buy the type of property you’d really like. Then, when you’ve decided on a compromise, most if not all of the houses that fit your second choice disappear in a puff of smoke.
I’m not going to give up, though. I will never surrender. Tomorrow I’ll do another sweep over the agents in Williton and Watchet, take myself off to Minehead for lunch and to view the very little house by the cemetary, and, if nothing emerges, I shall take a few days off to recuperate and catch up on things like laundry, and then I shall start all over again. To be repeated until successful.