28th November 2010

Since returning from the Azores, I don’t seem to have spent more than five minutes at home, and even then, it’s usually been to feed Millie the cat, put the kettle on, and collapse with exhaustion.

Jamie is on the brink of moving into an apartment conveniently close to the railway station, thanks to a part-buy/part-rent scheme from the local Housing Association, designed, in theory, to give first-time buyers a leg up the property ladder. Of course, things couldn’t possibly go smoothly. The Leeds Building Society valued the flat at £5,000 less than the asking price and refused to cough up the mortgage. Fortunately, when Jamie presented this little hiccup to the Housing Association, they graciously dropped the price.

All seemed well until, having worked extra hours to save his deposit, Jamie managed to run into another car, and the deposit money went straight to the driver for repairs. He didn’t want to lose his no-claims bonus (apparently, without it, insuring the car would cost more than the car itself). Now, through sheer grit, he’s rebuilt the deposit fund and looks set to move in within a fortnight. He’s currently fretting about cutlery, furniture, bedding, and every other item he thinks you can’t live without. Luckily for him, Christmas is approaching, and I suspect Santa may arrive armed with a dinner service and a duvet set.

When Sue, Sarah and I left for the Azores, the Newarks were in talks with Persimmon Homes about a part-exchange deal on a new build in Desborough. Finance agreed, mortgage sorted, what could possibly go wrong? Well, the surveyor took one look at their Newark home and condemned it like something out of Homes From Hell. Not only was the asking price slashed by £15,000, but every fault under the sun was listed for urgent repair: drains, brickwork, electrics, heating, carpentry, damp-proofing, woodworm… You name it.

With Suraj working away and Charlotte juggling Lucas and Ellis, I headed north to help. Nan funded the works, Charlotte and I provided the elbow grease, and Suraj booked the tradesmen for the jobs we couldn’t bodge, I mean, do ourselves. In the middle of this, Persimmon (despite promising they wouldn’t) put the house back on the open market, and they sold it the following week. Annoying doesn’t quite cover it.

After much sighing, a new option appeared: a Bovis Homes show home in Rothwell, fully furnished, with a cracking view over the fields. It has one fewer bedroom, is more expensive, and is only just affordable if Sue and I invest in it too, which we’re willing to do.

Renovation of the Newark house turned into an episode of slapstick comedy: nails through central heating pipes, water through the lounge ceiling, floorboards up to chase elusive electrical faults, cats throwing up on carpets, and the inevitable winter sickness bug felling Charlotte, then Suraj. But finally, the house is pristine, guarantees in hand, and the estate agent reckons it “should sell quickly.” The Bovis surveyor is due this week; if all goes to plan, moving day is 17th December. Fingers firmly crossed.

Thankfully, Sarah has been a source of peace in the chaos. She’s busy at school, revising for exams, and working at Savers for extra Christmas and petrol money. The only cloud on her horizon is Lee’s mother, who appears to have decided that Lee shouldn’t be seeing Sarah. I’m not sure why, but given her husband’s health issues, she’s likely under immense strain.

Sue’s been covering the odd day at Church Langton and has taken on a regular Thursday afternoon class, which she enjoys. I’ve hardly seen her lately, what with me being mostly in Newark. Last week, she managed to fall off the loft ladder and hurt her back quite badly; naturally, she kept quiet about it until I returned home. Now she moves delicately, with a hot water bottle as her constant companion.

We had Brigitte and Jim around for wine one evening. Brigitte, recently diagnosed with breast cancer, had just undergone surgery and looked remarkably well. We can only hope her recovery continues smoothly.

Meanwhile, Joan and Phil have flown from Italy to a frosty UK for a one-week stay. If the weather behaves, we’ll meet them for lunch. As I write, Liverpool have just lost to Tottenham. Being staunch Reds, they may well hop straight on the next flight back to Italy.