I have tracked the b****r down in his empty, echoing no-property-to-sell habitat in North London. He sounded drained of all energy, a hollow man totally bereft of any shred of salesman bounce and energy. Maybe he has a small baby that keeps him up all night. Or a large mistress. According to him he was 'in meetings' all Wednesday and didn't give an excuse for Thursday at all. I have arranged a second viewing for next Tuesday, which gives me a chance to have a look at a cheaper cottage in a further away location (swings and roundabouts) that another (very bright and enthusiastic) agent has just contacted me about.
I must say my heart is in property number one because it is on my familiar patch, I could get my lovely old GP back again, my old chiropractor is down the road and best of all, so are three of my good friends. My old local pub with the Sunday jazz sessions is a stroll away. I could have fun again. BUT... and it's a big but... I'd be paying a mortgage. The other, I could buy for cash but in order to have fun, I'd be spending an hour each way on buses. Lotter win, oh lottery win, wherefore art thou? The £15 I won on the Euromillions last week had a few noughts missing!
1 week ago