Could be 6 months, could be more. No one knows, all policy is being made up on the hoof, by donkeys, and in the mean time the virus proliferates ensconced within us, them, everyone else and we have no idea or at least little idea where. The track and trace system is pretty poor, and whilst they give with one policy they take with another, its almost like they’re waiting for a vaccine. Howe many times can they appear on telly and tell us they don’t have the foggiest idea what to do. I may as well ask my Mum to make government policy. Actually on second thoughts we don’t want a Daily Mail race riot.
Its funny, the nights are drawing in, the house is getting colder and we’ve decided to try and sell our house. Harking back to the first days of Lockdown, way back on March 20th, or somewhere around that point, it was all a bit of a Challenge to be completed and as such I wrote my “Year Zero” series, look it up, its on my site, and it varies from very good to not so. And now our house has been on the market since Saturday 26th September, we’ve had 2 viewings, one interested possibly, one just came to disturb the peace checking out the book shelves and what’s on my bedside table at the moment… A book about training Goshawks; H for Hawk, if you must know. Apparently the lady who saw the house today has read it. I very much doubt that, and can only assume she wanted her husband to be as high fucking brow as me and not some buff rock star type, with oodles of charisma and a wink with every greeting; oh how nauseating it all must be. So in the last 4 days we have spent a fair proportion of the time afforded to us by the universe in cleaning and tidying the house. Moving things and losing things because they don’t appear to be where they were last time, last week seems such a long time away. Tomorrow we’ve got 2 viewers, 1/2 an hour apart, which I wouldn’t have thought is enough time to measure if the place is big enough to swing a cat, or even a squirrel. Then on Thursday, another fucker comes through the door, thursday is when I am traditionally winding down towards the weekend, shoes and jumpers tend to stay where they are taken off and records migrate from the shelves into an untidy stack against the floor, newspapers lie open on the crossword page and the remains of tea start to form a film meniscus, if I still smoked they would have coigarette butts in, BUT be strewn around the garden. Ive never picked up so much Dog shit, and thank God its not raining, thats when I’ll struggle, I walk through the tempest gagging as I bend over scraping and smoothing the shit into the soaking grass and mingling with the mud, is it more shit than mud or vice versa?
No offers yet, my son and I took care of the viewing on Saturday afternoon, lasted 40 or 45 minutes for those of you with a fondness for Harry Enfield, but it actually did last that long. Then we had 2 days respite and then another fucker today, Mrs T and daughter took control today; only 20 minutes. I’l take control tomorrow. We’ll see what happens on Thursday. Christ when will this ever end?
The reason we’re selling? I hear you all ask. To get a new house, I’ve never lived in a new house and throughout my DIY performing life I’ve always been scoring about 6/10 at most, satisfactory but could do better. With nothing to do inside, I will be free to create and destruct in the garden, this is much more forgiving for errors and is the place of bonfires. To hell with the cut in Stamp Duty tax relief, I want a massive Bonfire. I’m hoping we don’t reach Day 100+ for the house move as I’ll be really losing my patience by then, but on the plus side at least we’ed be nearly at Christmas or possibly past it, which will be a great relief.
If you did click on this blog expecting tips on how to sell your house I expect you’ll never return, but just in case you do I here for the foreseeable, come join the cult