Another little step to the sun!

Have you any conception how many small handprints I found waiting for criminal handprint experts to dust to find the culprit? Let me short circuit this investigation and point the finger of accusation towards the 18 month palm of a certain young Catalan! I think for some of his work he would have had to have jumped or stood on a chair! How inventive are the ways of the less than adult!

The frantic work at removing the legacy of youth was as a result of the estate agent phoning up and informing me that the couple who viewed the house informally yesterday were coming back for a second more serious investigation. Hoovering, polishing, dusting, tidying, sweating – the usual accompaniments of unusual activity. This took me until about one o’clock with the visitation set for one thirty.

Vacating the house and making for the Pauls was but the decision of a moment, because I was hoping that Paul Squared would be able to tell me more about the six monthly interview in the jobcentre. While with the Pauls, one thirty came and went with nary a musical interruption from the Motorola. Depression set in and I eventually wound my heavy way to town. A desultory wander through W H Smith and a weary decision to have a ruinously expensive cup of coffee before the interview settled the slack time before I had to present myself in Charles Street.

The interview was taken by a substantial lady with one of those heavily ‘amusing’ and confiding senses of humour. How I smiled. I was given the exciting information that I had been waiting for: thanks to governmental instruction I was not obligated to go on a three day course to teach me how to write a CV and find a new sense of purpose and confidence. I can hardly wait. I pity the poor teacher who has me in her class.

I wonder how the groups are organised. When I look around on my fortnightly visits to the Jobcentre, I cannot fail to be impressed by the cross section of society that I note milling around telephones, job computers and the Jobcentre employees. It’s not a mixed ability class that I would like to take. The 30th of the month will be day one; I will keep you informed.

While I was talking to my personal advisor the mobile went off. I normally loathe and despise those people who break off conversations (especially when those conversations have been prearranged) to talk into an insubstantial piece of metal. However, I considered what the estate agent had to say of more moment than the platitudes of my advisor. After a little haggling which stretched through the interview, out into Charles Street and was finalized on the central reservation of Churchill Way – I accepted the viewer’s offer and the HOUSE IS SOLD.

I realise that I am tempting all the fates which lurk in the darkness of men’s minds when I state that the HOUSE IS SOLD. I am well aware that the offer of an offer and its acceptance is just the start of another long and drawn out process which is fraught with danger and not a little expense. But, surely, there is nothing wrong with indulging oneself with a little self congratulation that the process of living up to the title of this blog is a step (at least) nearer to completion.

Wish us luck!