Movement

On Friday, I got home at a reasonable hour.  I was going to be letting in one of the agents and their client to check out our flat.  It was going to be before Roy got home, so I was the one in charge of giving any info they might ask for.  Some of it I know, some I don’t…so I was kinda holding my breath that I would know enough answers.

The woman who arrived was probably in her 40s or very early 50s.  Dressed well, she was seemingly a professional who lives on her own.   She took her time, checking out each room, visually checking out each dimension, feeling the carpets and turning on water.  Luckily I was able to answer the few questions she asked.  She went back and checked out a few of the rooms and then they went on their way.  The woman seemed interested.  But you can never tell.

That evening, the agent asked if she could return on Sunday with a friend.  No problem.  And excited, we prepared for this second showing, a first in our challenge of finding a buyer for our flat.

Sunday arrived and we were very happy as it was SUNNY!  Then one hour before our lady arrived, the sun decided to take a breather and went behind clouds.  Boo!  So twenty minutes before she arrived, I turned on EVERY light.  It was a good thing that we got ready early as she showed up fifteen minutes early.

The woman had brought her aunt and they went into full on mode…turning on and off lights, pulling aside blinds, asking about sounds and neighbors and parking.  They went outside the flat and checked out our small communal garden.  They laughed at all the lights being on (it’s sort of a cliche in house selling…but had to do it).  This time I couldn’t tell what she was thinking.

So, today, I got a call from the agent.  The reason the woman was looking at our place is that a prior sale seems to have fallen through and so she wants to move on and try to find a new property to buy.  My guess is that her lease is running out soon and so she would prefer to be in her own property rather than renew.  So now it’s a waiting game…she’ll find out if her original purchase has not worked out before the end of the week…and then we’ll find out if our place is the place for her.

So now, we’re holding our breath, waiting for the answer! (and crossing our fingers and our toes)

We live in a part of London that is far from posh.  It’s been very working class and has all the facilities that accompany that:  cheap & cheerful shops, a few bakeries, Kentucky Fried Chicken, a few places to gamble, etc.  Nice restaurants and good pubs are few and far between.  So we tend to head to West Hampstead or other parts of London where we ‘fit’ much more as an interratial couple.

Last night we decided, after many talks about it, to go to a local Indian and pub.  They are just down the street.  And ya know what?  We found some decent food and a nice pub.  Yes, right in our neighborhood.  Right when we’re moving further from the town centre (even if we stay somewhat locally). 

Ironic.  I’ve been living here with Roy for two years with him complaining about not having a good local and there is one close by.  It wasn’t too crowded, had okay beer, a good mix of people…we fit in fine.  But at least we now know of its existence and so even if we move, we can head that way quite easily.