Drive time continues to improve, notwithstanding the HGVs and landfill traffic. No ponies or tractors this morning. But it is school holidays and gloriously sunny.
Still no movement on the property front (I’ve been watching the dust form on CB Slade’s windows in the heat haze). And those vendors in the market, by and large, appear to be (a) disinterested, (b) insanely optimistic, or (c) just insane.
Tomorrow, I am visiting a class (a) (vendor has to be pressed and pressed again to allow a viewing). Strangely the property has been on the market for over a year with a string of different agents.
This morning, I walked through the churchyard (quentissentially English) to have a look at our abortive “purchase.” The shared driveway (which the vendor has since apparently sold off independently to give the cunning appearance of a price reduction) is now also shared with lots of scaffolding…….
Other than that, and Tesco’s, Cricklade remains a charming little town of honied stone and olde world charm. I fed my mind in the charity shop, buying Jacobson’s the Finkler Question (which I have been meaning to read ever since I fell behind the Book Club’s schedule) and my ever-expanding waistline in Stacey’s (scrambled egg on heavily buttered toast – bliss).
Back home to the tedium of work and a complete absence of any evidence of our purchasers forwarding mail. The Post Office redirect has now kicked in (Johnny Boden has found me in my Swindon hide-out), but that’s about it. Nothing from agent or solicitors. OMG, I’ve just outed myself as a class B (insanely optimistic vendor)!