It took six hours and ten minutes. My house was sort of on the market at 9:00 a.m. on Monday 24th February, though not officially listed or advertised anywhere. By 10:00 a.m. I had had a reasonable offer and by 3:10 p.m. I had haggled like a Marrakech fridge magnet salesman and agreed a more than satisfactory price with the family who were to become the fourth set of occupants in the turbulent history of la Casa De La Revolución Gloriosa in the fashionable Pewsham district of Chippenham. Little did they know about the Leeds United slogans daubed on the walls beneath the wallpaper in the bedrooms or the gruesome manifestations of the tormented non-dead that take place in the downstairs lavvy when the moon is fat.
So, another massive hurdle behind me in my world of hurdles of varying sizes. Once the gargantuan mission of tarting the place up that had taken over my life for the whole of the year so far had been accomplished I thought I would be able to relax a little and get my breath back for a few weeks, or even months, whilst yer man the estate agent traipsed a thousand splendid nosey parkers round in the hope that one would buy. Just over six hours was all that I got to resuscitate myself and really I was out on the road plying my trade during all of them. Consequently I am now still very breathless. Breathless on one count because of the effort required over the last couple of months to get my humble abode straight and on a second count, at the speed with which it was snapped up.
I now have a new agenda with three things on it:
1) To find somewhere else to live, but not just yet. My next dwelling place will be of a rented nature but there is no point starting the search until the sale of this house is almost cut and dry. I don’t want to be stuck with rent to pay as well as a mortgage in the event of the deal falling flat. This does present a hint of anxiety as in an effort to avoid having two places to live I may end up with none.
2) To pack my belongings. This shouldn’t be too difficult as I have already sifted through most of it and given the surplus to requirements bits to the poor and the needy and the man at the tip and neighbours who have paid a lot of money to have rubbish skips in their drives and people who genuinely believe that Lynyrd Skynyrd CDs will be worth something one day.
Things I mustn't forget to take with me when I move house.
3) To restart my life as Terry Mullan the party animal, mineral or vegetable. My social life for the last two months had comprised of little more than a walk round to Tesco’s for a Satsuma and a natter on the phone to a very friendly chap in New Delhi who had some double glazing he was trying to get rid of. So I’ve booked up to go to some gigs (in England, not New Delhi) and the travel plans are whirling around in my head a bit more rapidly than they had been before Monday afternoon’s momentous achievement.
The bottom line (which I will endeavour to write on the bottom line of this blog piece but I can’t promise) is that, barring a complete disaster, this house is sold and I’m on my way. I’m sorry if you wanted to buy it but missed out. I did warn you that you should log on to eBay as quickly as possible but even if you had done I think you’d have found that the transaction was completed on more of a ‘Buy Now’ basis than an auction.
Click on the link below to see what you could have won:
Desperately Seeking la Casa de la Revolución Gloriosa