Today I am in one of those 'dreadful lady moods' for no reason at all. Lots of highly unnecessary drawn out sighing and an over use frequent tutting, with the odd snort of indifferent contempt thrown in. Usually as I kick some of the cardboard boxes which are from floor to ceiling in most rooms. My recent experience with estate agents has deepened normal passing irritations and I have used up my 'being patient with people and situations quota,' probably for the next couple of months or so.
Our house is half packed up, and I have joined in the UK national pass time of dissing all estate agents. I have stopped short of voodoo dolls and pins, but my deep shampooing of carpets in preparation for a move that should have happened by now, has ground to a halt. The recently cheerful voice of our seller's smarmy and silver tongued estate agent announcing how sad it was that he had sold the house we were buying over our head to a cash buyer, alongside an irritating woman selling our house. Telling me that the delays caused her end were not really a problem, drove me to some banshee level outbursts. After offering to pop in and run her office for her copied to head office, we reached some sort of uneasy truce. I was muttering expletives even in my sleep apparently.
After an hour of wailing and gnashing of teeth, having lost the house. I retired and filed my fangs, and climbed back on the horse. Having phoned every agent in a 40 mile radius explaining both on the phone and by email my exact requirements and location. I then received a barrage of highly unsuitable properties miles away from our chosen location, including one bedroom retirement flats and also some holiday homes suitable for occupation only some of the year. Apparently my clear requests in bold capitals - indicating not in a village, only in two town locations, and at least four bedrooms, in print in an email could not be read. It was as if I had submitted a request saying, please sell me any old pile of shite at any cost anywhere in the UK, sod the location find the me a municipal karzi to convert in the middle of a roundabout and have done with it.
However after one day a house I could almost bear to look at caught my attention, and off we went to look at it. I offered on it on the spot, the vibes were right, the current owners nice, and the garden big enough for me to sulk in on a daily basis. I fought of all the other viewings and the second viewings and presented the lady of the house with a large bunch of flowers the next day. They really like us and want their much loved home to go to nice people, unlike the last selected abode which I will refer to as 'Crappy View' where a basket of venomous snakes would have done for the current vendors to fit with their forked tongued dealings. I resisted the urge to issue a card wishing them bad karma for the next two centuries as it would probably backfire and cause me some. I did some unlady like hissing of my own and recovered swiftly.
Fingers crossed I get this one off the ground. I have banned the estate agent from phoning me more than every other day. She has to write to me. I have been told by her in warbling soprano tones for 12 weeks now, alongside her 12 year old sidekick in estate training, that things are fine, when clearly they have not been, this has been reflected by the ten percent discount which has now landed on my mat, after I wrenched the for sale board out of the ground and tossed it into the hedge. It is now back up again, minus the temporary bag my husband put over it, with a gaffer taped 'for sale' note, on the day, we had been let down yet again.
All is temporarily calm. I am now back to my usual dreadful self. I am sitting in a half collapsed deckchair in the garden being very very nosy regarding passers by who are on the way to the coast, they of course are equally nosy about me. The sun brings them out like a rash. Huge framed men with beards squashed into tiny sports cars, and what I like to call cycling lizards. People wearing tight shiny green and black lycra with go faster hats on who appear to be in some sort of copy cat Tour de France mode, and not forgetting people of a certain age who suddenly buy military style his and hers matching shorts and hiking socks and start marching about with giant rucksacks on.
Last night I took a friend out and we sat up the road not many miles away at one of my husbands gigs in a newly taken over pub. I hope to join the band again soon, but am still recovering from boring illness. We sat and drank rather nice red wine and moaned about our lack of Euro Millions winnings and in general the Lottery and Thunderball. I do appear to win them most weeks but not more than ten pounds, still it pays for the tickets. We also did that sort of parenty good hearted lamenting about teenagers that most of us do. My son is either playing his drum at full pelt alongside my daughter who listens to her MP3 player all the time. Whenever I speak, nobody can hear me, and I realize too late that I am just mouthing at my daughter like that sketch from Faulty Towers. youtube.com/watch?v=tcliR8k...
I am rather pleased with this new pub set up. The succession of owners/managers for the last five years have tried in a rural location to offer gourmet food and eclipse the pub vibe which has upset the locals and alienated their trade after the usual grand opening. Mind you the particular village it supports probably have moaning in general as their daily setting. Mos of the village do appear to be related to one another, and in general they really do not do 'pleased' When it was just a pub they did not like that either. The new people have got it just right. I was most amused to arrive and find two voluptuous middle aged barmaids draped over the bar and the customers, laughing their heads off. Meanwhile their husbands were the wrong side of the bar drinking beer with the punters and planning all things football. A real mixture of people in there, not just for food, some live music, lots of children and the whole atmosphere light, and the real test, lots of people who have not been to that pub for years enjoying themselves with entire extended family with them. The fact that I managed to secure two large sofas for myself family and friends was very pleasing. Although at the end of the evening my teenage son insisted on stretching a pair of very long hairy legs across me rendering my unable to move due to the red wine going on. When I asked him to move, he said, but I thought you missed my cuddles Mummy.
During the evening I became entangled with a large number of dogs. Lots of customers appeared to have brought their local pooch along, and all being kept under control on retractable leads which were on the longest setting. As I attempted to walk from the bar carrying a tray of drinks to an area of Sofa's, games, magazines and all things fun. I realized just in time that I had a separate dog lead wound around each leg, my legs started to go in different directions, with two rather excited hounds having a play fight. Once untangled and over hugged by the tiddly owners I was soon ensconced on a big squishy sofa, listening to my husband bellowing out tunes, with the addition of the pub cat on my lap. A rather enormous man in stature, proceeded to squash himself next to me, in order to help me if the dogs came back. His beer fumes brought the hair on the back of my neck up, as did the facial expressions of his glowering wife.
Today I am resting a little and my man has gone off again to do another gig. Before he left he made me a nice pot of tea, which when I poured it out, was only hot water, but never mind it is the thought that counts. Later on, having munched my way through a compost heap sized pile of salad, I tested a special gluten free croissant. I have to say, foul is the word. It reminded me of one those knotted dog chews, although the dog treat would probably be a more satisfying culinary experience. I whizzed it out of the back door and over a hedge, and much to my satisfaction, I heard it hit my neighbours lawnmower.
Despite the crap and nonsense of the last few days, I think for a little while I am on the mend. My Nutrit Thryoid and Nutri Adrenal Extra plus LDN are doing their thing.. and I may even move soon.
More fuss in the future is guaranteed!
MaryF
Please support and sign the TUK petition, it will only gain signatures if we all recruit people to help sign: epetitions.direct.gov.uk/pe...
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MY HOPE IS GONE & I AM DONE 😔
Am I a hypochondriac?
Support group in/near Reading?
Am I just being cynical?
