Spring?

       Here we are on  the second day of Spring, and it certainly isn't anything like it here in Barcelona, never mind good old  Blighty, where it seems there are the worst conditions since World War 2!  Weather-wise, we are hopeless in the UK, and it only takes a puny couple of inches of snow to put all  our services and means of transport in jeopardy. I'm listening to Radio 4 as I type this, and really it seems that we have become a nation of total softies, who can't manage without our central heating. This brings back memories from my youth (OK so that was a hundred years ago) when we lived in a semi-detached house which had no central heating, like every other house in the road! We had a fire in our 'dining' room which had a back boiler, so we only had hot water when the fire was lit. The rest of the time we boiled a kettle on the gas and sat round the fire to keep warm and listen to the wireless. I can still light a decent fire and often do, but I wonder how many young people could do the same if it became really necessary.
       My Sister and I slept in a double bed with eiderdowns piled on top in winter, and every morning when we woke up there were frosty fern patterns inside the window..(We breathed on them so that we could see out into the garden.) We hopped out of bed pretty smartly to wash down in the unheated bathroom (with hot water from the kettle) and get dressed. I'm not saying that it was great, I'm simply saying that was the norm then, and  though we now have all our lovely home comforts, I'm not sure that they have improved our quality of life as much as we think. We were certainly tougher then, and didn't expect everything to be done for us, as seems to be the case today. Anyway, old moaner that I undoubtedly am, I would rather like to see some of the old British spirit surfacing when snow strikes.
      I was watching the Spurs vs Rochdale FA Cup replay on Wednesday evening through a live stream with Son in the comfort of his apartment, while Daughter was at Wembley in what looked like a blizzard. It was a very exciting match, despite or maybe because of the weather, and the Spurs won 6 -1 in the end. Son and I were looking out for Daughter on the telly, but didn't spot her in the crowd and I have to say that for most of the second half we couldn't even see the ball on the screen.
    Ah well, who could have expected that we'd have snow in Winter?   
     

Stressed-Out City

Not my best day so far - it started with feeling sick with apprehension when I got up, but not with any particular reason. I soon learned though, when my Solicitor rang me to say that the person I'm buying from had apparently received  "an independent cash offer" from person unknown and that if I can't exchange by this Friday they may sell to this "person". Then I really felt sick! So the rest of today has been filled with phone calls. panic and a feeling of  stressed out helplessness. I must say that this vendor behaved similarly when I first offered on the house, threatening to sell to someone else if I didn't stump up an extra 10 thousand. At that time, I agreed because that actually brought the house price up to the asking price, and I felt it was really worth the money. This time, however, I'm not feeling so generous - and not that any extra money has been mentioned anyway. It has just totally wobbled me after such a long time and when we are so close to Exchange. I think we have avoided disaster, and everyone has actually spoken to everyone else today, which has hopefully sorted it out. Fingers crossed.
   I've been totally submerged in negotiations with builders, plumbers, electricians and removers over the last couple of weeks, and of course it's all going to cost more than I had hoped originally - how could I be so naive as to imagine that total refurbishment could be cheap, or even reasonable? No wonder the builders, plumbers, electricians etc are all so charming, helpful and amenable - they're all earning a bloody fortune! Not that I'm complaining, I've got to the stage where I just want to get on with it, at (almost) any price.
   Family news: the children had a visit from their Father who, as you may remember, has been living in New Zealand for the past nearly 20 years. He is now married to wifie number 4, 25 years his junior, and has prostate cancer. I guess he came over to see the new babies, since it's unlikely  that either Son or Daughter would be able to make the journey there (or afford it). And maybe he senses that his time is limited - I don't know, and as I wasn't planning to see him I couldn't ask.  Anyway I think the visit was pretty much as expected - he brought presents for everyone and still managed to rub a few people up the wrong way; that is a particular talent of his which doesn't seem to have faded with time.
   I'm going up to London tomorrow to help Son and his partner with the baby for a couple of days.
Lovely - I'm going on the train and coming back with them in the car on Saturday. I had forgotten it's the Bank Holiday, so just hope the traffic won't be too bad... I hope that when I catch up with you again there will have been proper progress in my property saga.
   Have a lovely weekend, I'm looking forward to some sunshine.

Nobody Panic...

Honestly, I'm beginning to feel a bit like a rabbit frozen in the headlights where this move is concerned. It's just that I have to get my head around not only moving, but getting rid of so much of the 'stuff' that I have gathered around me over the last twenty years or so. Then there's the fact that I will have to completely gut and refurbish the new place, which will take roughly two months, during which time I will have to rent somewhere short term. If all of this sounds stressful, it is supposed to be but I feel strangely calm most of the time - just unable to actually do anything.
   I should be planning it all, on the computer probably, and I am  getting together a lot of pictures which I'm saving in my "Moving Folder". Typically for me, I can easily visualize what it will look like when it's finished; I can see the kitchen, the sitting room, the bedrooms, the bathrooms and even
the garden as they will be when finished, it's just the getting there which eludes me! I have now seen three builders, all different, and all very helpful in their different ways - they can all apparently do what I want and seem competent enough. But I have heard so many horror stories about builders that I'm naturally cautious and, frankly, terrified of choosing the wrong one. My best option would seem to be the one who is actually working on another house in the same development at the moment. I have been watching their progress over the last couple of weeks and their work looks good. Fingers crossed, they could be the ones...
   I don't want to add any pressure to Son's life either, since he has only just emerged from wrestling with his builders, who were basically a "gang" of Polish men who were often drunk on the job, often not even on the job, and finally left their new house in an unfinished and dodgy state. All I want is for him to come down in a van (with a friend) and take some of my stuff away. They already have one of my lovely rugs in their sitting room, and it works well on their new oak floor. I just wish they had room for more. And if only Daughter could take a few things! But that is just wishful thinking as their flat (a large, three-bedroom job) is already stuffed to the gills with their things, and even when they move I don't think they'll want much of mine.
   Anyway, I'm just whingeing really. We obviously have lofts and attics for the sole purpose of storing things we will never look at again.. and particularly our children's things. Mine contains children's books (still boxed from my move 12 years ago), black sacks full of old stuffed toys,
a half-size snooker table, a travel cot, a rear shelf from an old Renault 5, suitcases full of summer or winter clothes, bubble-wrapped pictures...well you get the picture, and I swear I won't do it again..
   I know I'm going to have to store some things, like the table from my Dad and the elm chest and probably the beautiful C18th corner cupboard, but now I'll have a garage, a dry, solid brick-built garage, in which to store them for a while. Ho Hum...
   Oh and just before I go, here's something I heard on the radio this morning: "What is Dark Matter?
It's called Dark Matter because it doesn't give out any light." Basically, it's the dark stuff in between the stars. Isn't that wonderful?