Invisible buyers in the snow!

If there are any Canadians staying in Wales this week they must be stunned by the effect of snow on the daily life of the country. Five to ten centimetres of snow made front page news; top of the programme items on the radio and television; talking points on the street: it was the weather after all, part of our national obsession. And it’s pretty. Especially if you don’t have to got to work and have the leisure to look around at the cosmetic effect of a blanket of white over the imperfections of an urban landscape.

There was disruption, but not the usual total cessation of transportation which is the normal result of any deposit of the white stuff on the road system of Britain. And this is where the astonishment of Canadians must have kicked in; not so much about the difficult driving conditions which were constantly emphasised by the broadcasters, but rather the tone of self congratulation that the country was not completely destroyed by a light dusting of snow. Didn’t we do well? Only half the schools in Wales were closed! Gosh!

God alone knows what would have to happen for Canadian school to close; presumably massed hordes of rabid huskies armed with tactical nuclear weapons and helicopters spraying hydrofluoric acid might delay some pupils from reaching their scholastic destination, but they usually take what we regard as cataclysmic disasters in their comfortable stride. What we in Wales experienced today would, I’m sure, not even register on their news radar.

There is now eager expectation that we will be able to rise above the problems associated with the unprecedented phenomenon of temperatures getting lower during the night in winter time when things might even freeze. We’re ready and waiting to show that we can manage by not driving recklessly over ice; but this is a radical response and we are not yet fully comfortable with these strange and outré coping procedures.

The saga of selling the house took a new and odd turn today. There was another viewing of a lady from Marshfield who is thinking of buying a property with a view to renting it out. The viewing was set for eleven in the morning, so the usual procedures were instituted. The cleaning and tidying and sorting and putting away and, and too many things to enumerate.

And nothing happened.

Not just nothing happened, but nothing was due to happen. Let me explain. The house was prepared for a guided viewing at eleven thirty today and I duly vacated the house so that the agent could take the prospective view around. The cunning device of leaving on the light in the downstairs loo was utilised; by its being turned off when I return it indicates that the viewing has taken place. The light was still on when I returned!

When I phoned the agent they denied all knowledge of the viewing, any viewing; nothing in the diary; nothing that anyone knew about anything to do with a viewing of my house. The circumstantial detail that I was able to give seemed to prompt no knowledge. Who phoned? Who was the mystery buyer? This is something which will have to be taken further.

I have to know