I didn’t sleep well. The house is supposedly ready for our occupation this coming Friday, in 5 sleeps, 5! But the developers seem to be on a go slow, so slow that not a great deal had been done over the weekend, the carpets may or may not have been put in upstairs as we didn’t go in rather preferring to look in through the windows like Tiny Tim seeking a turkey he would never have. I’m hoping its not going to be like this for us.

The developer had Promised it would be READY (in capital letters) for when we move in on Friday, but this promise has been consistently backed up by a bank of lies from him, I won’t name him yet, but when we’ve got in and when the work has been done and we’re happy I will nail that bastard, somehow. This was why I didn’t sleep, and I was dismayed to discover that I found myself thinking really dark thoughts as to how I could really piss this guy off. And the ridiculous woman who works in the show home, her way of operating is to fob folk off, the people who are buying the properties, by offering duplicitous lies and glossy untruths. Yes it will be ready, yes I’ll speak to the developer, I think so sir… over and over in her caked on made up sneering face. Christ I won’t be sad to see the back of her.   

So to sum up, should you give the slightest shit, is that they’ve got a pocket full of excuses worth fuck all and I really don’t need them. We are at a critical stage to put it mildly, and if we don’t get in for Christmas my dark insomniac plotting will probably continue as we haemorrhage money on holiday accommodation whilst looking into the house our face pressed against the windows. More news to follow should I feel compelled to write surrounded by boxes.