A lady came and looked around our flat today. She was downsizing; she wanted something that felt spacious without being big; she was describing our home.
Hurrah!
I prefer an agent to do the showing but we haven’t had any lookers for weeks so were happy with the interest. I was doubting the existence of our property on their website, really the global website, since I had become thoroughly irritated with them a few weeks ago (many weeks ago now I think of it), for wanting to drop the price after only four weeks!
The flat is displayed in their window, not quite the High Street but a busy thoroughfare en route to the station, but today, with electronic media, passing traffic no longer drums up much business, especially as in Beckenham all those who pass by are retired residents who aren’t moving anywhere except into a home or a hearse.
The agent asked if pets were allowed since the interested lady had a cat?
I looked at my lease and double checked with the Chairman of the Board and,
“No birds, dogs, cats or animals of any kind are allowed.”
I picked up the phone reluctant to waste anyone’s time. I was assured the message would be passed on.
This morning we did our miracle ten minute whip round and got the flat in tip top viewing order. With only the two of us living here there isn’t much that can get out of hand…except when it comes to dark furniture and dust. It catches my eye every day and is difficult to ignore…I steel myself and live up to my reputation for making myself do things I don’t particularly want to do…I look away.
She was prompt and alone. We watched her progress around the grounds and knew by her smile and leisurely gait she was enjoying her self-tour.
As she crossed the threshold we asked her if the agents had told her that no pets were allowed?
“No,” she said, and the rest of the tour was cursory. Her cat was a rescue mutt and the option was, no option!
She politely looked around drinking in the sunny outlook, the graceful lines, the spacious rooms. At the door we shook hands and she announced our flat to be very lovely.
We knew we wouldn’t see each other again.
On walking home from church later this evening hubs and I wondered aloud why the property owners, us, had decided against allowing any animals? I can understand a yapping dog, but a cat, a bird, a hamster?
Our fellow owners and residents are a strange breed of Englishmen.
Well hello there! My name is Vivienne McNeny.
I am an empty nester exploring life as a Boomer…you could say I'm happily Boomering along!
As a homeschooling Mum I have finally quit the job of role model and mentor to my four children. I do what I want to do, eat when I feel like it, enjoy life with my blue eyed cowboy and clean my house once a month or so whether it needs it or not!
In true English form I write about the emergence of my true identity now that I can no longer hide behind my children as their Mum.
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