Thursday, 4 November 2010

Goodbye Childhood Home

Desperate Dan the Estate Agent Man is back. He's showing people around my house. Here they are, pointing out the flaws, weighing up whether or not they'd deign to live here. I don't want them to want to live here, you understand, but equally I don't want them making snide comments about the place. We don't need your opinion thanks, it's not Escape to the Country.

I asked Dan if I could do anything to help with the viewings. I know a small amount about the house, after all. 

Looks good in an apron
'No dear,' he replied. 'Perhaps you could just drape yourself somewhere artistically and make the place look more attractive. And don't say anything about the house to the viewers, OK?' 

Presumably Aunt Aggie puts up with this kind of chat, but since I don't have a flowery apron stitched to the front of my dress, or spend my life in pursuit of cow pie perfection, it did grate rather. 

Anyway, to be balanced about this, not all potential house buyers are vile. However when they were terrible, I at least didn't feel guilty about hating them and the thought of their snotty little faces living in my childhood home. 

The worst lot flounced in early on a Monday morning. Not ideal.

'Hello,' I said, struggling to restrain Dogface from manic destructive prancing, 'nice to meet you! Sorry, we've got a new puppy - bit hard to control!' [This is Jovial Winning Kate by the way - she speaks with exclamation marks.

Vile-and-Bald's loose change
'I can see that,' responded Vile-and-Bald, looking out of the window. 'Don't let it get on my wife's coat.'

Tough crowd. Dan tried to warm them up a bit with some of his best lines, including 'so what brings you to Oundle' and 'where are you from then?'

Vile-and-Bald glanced about disdainfully. 'We're from London actually. We're looking to downsize, we've got several properties worth in the millions. And four acres near London. Not really sure about "Oundle" to be honest, you know….' He tails off, to ponder his fat piles of cash.

If only MD were here, I found myself thinking, she could wow him with the microclimate. Or kill him. One of the two.

'Er right yes, lovely,' Dan mumbled. 'Garden next?'

An acceptable view
'No,' said Vile-and-Bald, 'I've seen gardens before. And - as I say - we've already got four acres, not really looking for more green space. HAR.' (That last bit was his laugh - like one of those robotic text readers interpreting emotion.)

With an awkward glance at me, Dan shepherded them into the cellar. A wiser man than I'd thought. 

But some normal people are apparently buying our house. I'm not sure they know exactly how great the place is, as I wasn't allowed to tell them. But they're keen for it at the moment, or will be until I write and tell them fictitious tales about dead bodies in the attic.

In fact the normal people must be alright as they weren't even put off by Dogface crapping decisively in their path as they arrived. MD tried to distract them with observations about Oundle's numerous hairdressers, microclimates, that kind of thing, but they just stepped delicately past it and admired the garden. 

I've trained him well, dear old Dogface. Just a shame I controlled him so successfully when the Baldy Bunch were round.


  1. This is the comments section. It's for comments yeah x

  2. This post makes me sad (though it's full of funnies) because I remember when my parents sold my childhood flat and they could have washed the stairs with buckets of my tears. Admittedly, I was about seven years old. *Empathising*

  3. i love the totally unnecessary pictures you have added to this, the hanging gardens of babylon for e.g

  4. Oh dogface.
    Great blog again. Can't believe it's actually happening - must get round to laminating that article about it in the Sunday Times.

  5. This is my favorite line:
    "That last bit was his laugh - like one of those robotic text readers interpreting emotion."

    I feel like I can identify with it... a lot.

    - AUT