Friday, 14 August 2015
"And Survey Saaaaaaaaays........"
I saw the familiar email address from the agent, followed by one from the husband. And then I just knew.
Deliberating momentarily I couldn't decide whether fashioning a frothy cappuccino was in order before clicking to read my fate, but decided in favour of a short, hard, fast shock to the system. Either way I just wanted the suspense to end. And it did.
Were we going to live happily ever after in 'Dream House No.3'? or were we destined to continue wandering property porn websites like addicts in search of the elusive 'hit'. Were we going to find ourselves chucked out on the street in a few months time, into some lacklustre rental stop gap? Or would we be roasting chestnuts on an open fire at Christmas? (I mean this literally as it so happens that 'Dream House No.3' has a delightful working fireplace positioned regally between two banks of bookcases in the grand Front Room.
But never mind all that. We didn't get it.
Of course we didn't. It would have been too easy, too seamless, and too perfect to have sold and found a new house all in the space of a week. It would have been too good a story.
Besides who likes chestnuts anyway?