Ah, the house, the house. We are now so very deeply perplexed and bamboozled by it all that who knows what will happen with it. The latest ins and outs over the weekend were that the vendors didn't appear to like us doing something they hadn't expected, ie objecting to their fluid understanding of exchange and completion dates (Gawd bless 'em), and so kept ringing us asking us to ring the particular vendor who is unexpectedly on holiday in Croatia to sort it out. Um, no. There seemed little point doing this as (a) it's expensive, (b) if the vendors don't seem to speak with one voice then there's no point chatting to one of them without the other, (c) if they do speak with one voice, what's wrong with the one in the UK? and (d) we now want everything in writing so we can have some kind of confidence that any agreements made might actually happen.
In the end we turned the phone off to avoid the calls and withdrew our original offer on the grounds that they weren't taking the situation seriously enough. Interestingly our simple conveyancing case has been booted upstairs at our conveyancer and the Head Honcho is now dealing with it - and even sending very sweet and supportive emails at 10.30pm on a Sunday night. Well done to her, and we did need some support!
The upshot is that we have made a much lower offer, with provisions attached, and eventually (after recovering from the shock of us not jumping through all the hoops quite so willingly, if at all) the vendors have come back with another price slightly lower than their original one, but with a fair gap still between us, so we'll raise our offer slightly and then see what happens. In the meantime, we're also looking at Plan B which is do up our flat, put it on the market and move elsewhere. After all, though it would be nice to continue living here, our house isn't the only property in the area we can afford.
With this in mind, we have been spring-cleaning! A good thing for whether we stay or whether we go, for sure. I have washed the kitchen cupboards and have spent 4 hours today washing everything in the bathroom and clearing out the stuff I no longer use in there. I expected to find the head of John the Baptist, or possibly Shergar, in the bathroom cupboard but they must have moved out ... Which probably isn't too surprising as I did all the scrubbing (as it were) whilst wearing a shower cap on my head to keep my hair clean, as I couldn't find a suitable scarf. Thank goodness no-one came to the door! If it had been our vendors, that might have been the final straw for them, ha!
Later this afternoon, I am off to the clinic to see yet another gynae expert to work out if I might need any further operation at some point - my life is so glamorous this week, as you can see. Though this evening, we're off to the theatre so the day will at least end on a fun note.
And, is it just me, or is there just too much Stephen Fry on TV at the moment? I do love QI and admire some of his programmes, but that utterly dreadful advert for his latest book is just so self-obsessed that it turns my stomach. I was thinking of getting the book but I definitely won't now - at least until he rediscovers his English sense of humour again. Should have taken a tip from the Peter Mandelson advert, I think, Stephen ...
I have to say how fed up I am with the number of writers' Yahoo groups I'm in, one of which has been irritating me so much with its general snippety attitude that it was a great relief to leave it last night. At last - freedom! I took the opportunity to leave some of the other ones too as I never read or take part in them - so am left only with the Yahoo groups that are publisher-specific as those are the most useful ones. It seems a sensible way forward anyway.
Meanwhile, The Delaneys and Me paid a brief visit to the Amazon charts once more, at no 69 no less(!), but it ain't there now. Ah well.
This week's meditations are:
If you want
to commit sins
don’t just copy
your father’s crimes
but do at least try
to be original.
The quietness of stone
and the warmth of wood
are an everlasting counterpoint
to war’s harsh music.
Blood leads to blood
and wars never cease
so no-one remains
who might speak of peace.
It’s not the sin
that kills you
but the sin