Tuesday 9 February 2016
Rain - biblical amounts of the stuff
There is a river flowing through our town. In Summer, it passes tranquilly through the deep cut central channel. In Winter or early Spring, if the weather is mild, as it is today, the heavy rainfall combined with the snow melt, make it a raging torrent which beats at the ancient stone walls and threshes flowers out of their boxes.
Miss Tea was waiting for me in the foyer of the Grand Hotel. For once, a client on time and sur place. And another novelty, all the houses were visitable on foot. The rain had temporarily abated and we walked along and met my colleague from another agency who had three properties to show.
The first was in the heart of the town, in a pretty road bright with floral window boxes and pots of small trees and shrubs. The house cut across two streets and the ground floor was deep and wide, with exposed stone walls and large hearth. Three bedrooms and a black hole and a bathroom. Sweet. My colleague didn't open the shutters. They apparently are VERY badly behaved and wont close again. Then on to see a second floor flat with two beds and two bathrooms and two absolutely beautiful terraces overlooking the town. It was the same price as the town house and I realised that it was the one which had been bought by the people from out East whom I had had as clients a number of years ago. They will have real trouble selling it for even the price they paid, albeit it the fact that it is a lovely flat. Lastly we went to a rat hole where two English people were camping out, pending the completion of the renovation of their property on the edge of town. Their cat tried to escape. I knew how he felt.
Then onto my properties, the flat over a shop which the lady had withdrawn just after New Year, a beautiful townhouse with shop and a far less beautiful town house, with shop and dog odour. Surprisingly, the lady loved the flat over the shop. We stopped for lunch and I went back home and filled in OH on the details.
Round two, afternoon. Showed her our flats. Alas she didn't like them because they were too modern and this was her feeling about the flat in the former cartworks, which is beautiful and shiny. No, she wants old French gothic, apparently. She also wants to see a flat belonging to another agent in town. She went back to the hotel and I hammered on various neighbours' doors to see if I could find the name of the owner. I find a cleaning lady who tells me the owner is in a home and I would need to go via an agent. I look at the boards on the balcony; my former agency where the boss lady still isnt speaking to me because I had the temerity to leave four years ago and an agency in town run by a man who did me out of a sale last January.... The latter seemed the more attractive option and he was actually in his office and showed me the flat. Overlooking the river, it was surprisingly large and very, very cheaply priced.
Back home. Rain absolutely lashing down. Cold.