Hello, kitty

Off to Leiden for a house-extension-warming party at Jessica and Maarten's. And what an extension! Two big rooms added on top of the house, giving great views across the rooftops and increasing the size of the house by 50%. I am deeply envious.

As an added bonus, I got to meet Mustapha the cat. PJ was very taken with him too, as unlike most cats of his acquaintance, Mustapha was happy to hang around in the same room -- and could even be persuaded to pose for a picture or two.



Tick tock, tick tock. We'd better buy a house soon. I really NEED a cat.

The old boy done good

Wednesday lunchtime, we receive an email from our selling agent. Our buyer wants to come round that afternoon to measure up the apartment. Is this okay? We had a similar message through a couple of weeks ago, and we made sure the place was spotless -- only for her to bail on the appointment. This time, I desperately cast my mind back over the state of the apartment when I left for work that morning. Not spotless, but not filthy either; she'd just have to put up with the clothes on the floor and the crumbs on the carpet. It's not ideal, but she's given us the runaround plenty of times during the course of this sale, so tough.

Later that day, we discovered that it wasn't actually our buyer who went round; it was her dad and a couple of his mates. The father will most likely be living here most of the time, he wanted to show his chums the place, and apparently they love it! In fact, they love it so much in its current state that our wealthy and design-focused buyer may have a problem doing up the apartment as she'd like. Heh! I'm actually rather comforted by the idea of an old boy moving in here, setting up a table by the French windows in the living room, watching the tourist boats go by on the canal, wandering over whenever a police siren is heard, and amusing himself with the arguments in the street below. We've loved it here, and so will he. There have been yuppies in this here apartment for far too long!

Thank God they're going!

That's what I imagine our neighbours are saying. We've just watched an extremely noisy episode of Battlestar Galactica, with Starbuck blasting the frak out of the baddest Cylon raider in the galaxy, and now PJ is happily blasting the frak out of assorted ne'er-do-wells on the Xbox 360 in Crackdown. I'm sure our middle-aged, Dutch-speaking, mainly-residing-in-Chelsea purchaser and her elderly father will make a very peaceful and welcome change.

Unless, of course, they put down [dramatic pause] wooden floors! Mwah-hah-hah!!!

Ker-ching

We've sold our apartment. Actually, we got the offer two weeks ago, signed the preliminary contract at the notary's last week, and confirmed the completion date this week -- but I didn't want to write anything about it for fear of jinxing it. Yes, I'm that superstitious.

Now that we've reached this point, I don't know how to feel. Happy that we won't be losing a bundle on this place? Sad because it's a great apartment, and we'll certainly never find anywhere like it again? Excited at the prospect of finding a new place in the UK to buy and do up? Overwhelmed at the thought of all the stuff that we need to do before we move -- such as getting through our extensive alcohol collection? All of these things, but mainly just a wee bit deflated. We've been talking about this move for the past two years, but now it's real.

Oh well, it's always best to leave a party when you're still enjoying yourself, rather than hanging on to the bitter end and heading home when the sun's coming up and I have no idea where this is analogy is going. Time to stop. Now.

Location, location, ceiling height?

We've had lots of viewers visit our apartment, but no offers. (Yet, PJ's just told me to add.) Apparently, the common problems are the height of the ceiling and the sloping floors. Great. Two things we can do absolutely nothing about. Also, they're not exactly uncommon in 17th century converted warehouses in the centre of Amsterdam, and it's not as if the photos of the apartment on Funda are misleading. Why can't people accept that these are characterful features, not drawbacks? Don't they watch house-buying shows?

Winchester or Worthing?

Yes, we did make progress over the weekend, despite my somewhat negative post. We "think" we're going to rent somewhere instead of trying to sell, move back to the UK, and buy in the next 8 weeks. And we think we're probably likely to possibly rent in Winchester, rather than Worthing. Worthing was a bit pikey; Winchester was more middle class with lots of lovely restaurants and wine bars, but the property available to buy wasn't so hot -- lots of 1980s houses on big estates some distance from the town centre. However, the rental market was great -- lots of charming period cottages close to the cathedral. So, acquiring kitties will go on hold while we settle back into UK living, get used to towns and driving, and hope that interest rates continue to rise and the bottom drops out of the housing market, leaving lots of lovely repossessions for us to snap up.

Does that make me a bad person?

Cleanliness is next to godliness

No time to blog -- too busy cleaning, cleaning, cleaning. We've got 12 viewings of the apartment lined up in the next 7 days, and so I hardly dare breathe indoors. Every time I use something, it has to be washed or folded and put straight back. Even for someone with my OCD tendencies, it's exhausting. Our makelaar told us that we shouldn't worry too much, that our apartment shouldn't look sterile -- but I can't help imaging potential purchasers running a finger along a work surface, looking in disgust at the dirt, and muttering "I'd never buy a house from such a slattern!" And PJ and I have different ways of doing things, hence the spat this morning over how best to hang the towels in the bathroom.

Please keep your fingers crossed that someone makes us an offer quickly. I don't think I can keep this up for very long.

Te koop

If you put it on funda, they will come. Even unannounced on a Saturday lunchtime.