Sorry, sorry, sorry.  I haven't finished the Saga of the Old House.  There's more to tell...
I know.  Downtown Abbey might run to fewer episodes yet.

To recap. The Old House had flooded as a result of burst pipes. Pipes that burst after I sold it (remember the mantra!). This is a house that no longer has ceilings or floors in the bedrooms. Or carpets or flooring on the ground floors for that matter. 
I had sold  it. 
But there was one problem;  I had left a £1,000 deposit with the builders to cover any snags they might find after they took over the property.

And I knew that there would be snags.  Even the most euphemistic of estate agents would have said the old house was quirky.  These quirks included a bathroom shower  so pathetic you had to dance in it to get wet.  Half the windows didn't open; and a couple didn't close properly either.  We were missing skirting boards in the hall way, and the shower in the en suite periodically stopped working until you put the shower head on the floor, turned off and turned on the shower.
Oh yes, and the gas fire in the living room had been condemned on an earlier gas inspection. The inspector had had to remove the connection between gas mains and my gas fire.

Mine was the only house in Scotland with a decorative fire.  Bless.

I didn't expect the full £1,000 back.  I was expecting some deductions for the dog damage to the windowsills, or the loose flooring upstairs, or the leaking radiator, or the hole in the cupboard door in the boy's bedroom.

But my new house has five bedrooms, and these bedrooms need curtains. 

And the time was up for them to confirm deductions or return my deposit.  Needs must. I phoned the property developer's office. I cleared my throat.  And I asked when they might be able to finish testing everything for snags.

Seeing's how everything downstairs is covered in soggy plaster and wood, and most stuff upstairs will be unreachable until they build floors,  this was a wee bit of a disingenuous question.

But the lady at the property company agreed that the flood wasn't a snag.
She said she'd get back to me.

And two days before Christmas I got my deposit returned in full.
No.  I did check.  The cheque was made out to me.
They haven't found any snags....

Scene  4:05pm Outside The Gym
I've parked the car outside the gym, and now I'm doing that monologue thing again.  The monologue that runs something like;

I made it all the way out here so I may as well go in.

And yes it's DARK already and it's raining, but it was dark when I left the house and it'll be dark when I go to work tomorrow, so what's the dark got to do with it? And the car is only 10 yards from the front door.

I've still got legs.  I can walk ten yards.

And I know I'll feel better when I've done it. Ten minutes on the rowing machine, half an hour on the treadmill. Big deal.  Home by half five. No stairmaster, I won't do the stairmaster. Just a wee row, and a wee jog, and home smug.  Smug is good. If I do all this, I can do smug.

And because I haven't been in a fortnight it's all the more reason to go now.
And because I feel like a barrage balloon it's all the more reason to go now.
And because it's back to work tomorrow, it's all the more reason to go now.
And because there is still half a box of Green and Black's and an unopened box of florentines waiting at home alongside a bottle of Bailey's and a big bag of Tyrell's, it's all the more reason to go to the gym.

4:15 I know... I know.. I know... I'm on my way in.  I'm going to the gym.  Enough already.

4.16  WHAT KIND OF GYM CLOSES EARLY ON JANUARY 2ND?

Wait...it's all quiet again.



Uh huh.. We've survived had another New Year.  And if Saturday Night has to be the busiest bestest party night of the week, then NEW YEAR has to be the busiest bestest Saturday of the year.  And Scotland?  Well Scotland invented New Year!  So if you're around the CAPITAL of Scotland there will be pipers, and fireworks, and parties and auld lang syne.  And that's before anyone makes you eat Black Bun or cries on your shoulder, or swears undying love...

So let's enjoy the peace this morning.  It's 2013.  I know, I know, I know, it sounds like the kid nobody wanted - that 13 is unfortunate and all.  But hey. It's a New Year, and a lovely sunny clear day after weeks of rain and storms.  It's a lovely, shiny, new start. 

And here's to a lovely, shiny year to us all.

Macy
x

Lesser known facts #1; when a house is truly cursed, there is no getting rid of it. And the Old House is the gift that keeps giving (stories).

Did I mention that I'd sold the (definitely cursed) house?  Yes?  Yes I did.  I sold it to a property developer.   I sold it to them, and I  moved my stuff out, and I cleaned the place, and I handed over the keys. And the Old House was now the property developer's.
This is such an important fact.

And for the first week or so I woke up every morning, happy that I was finally out of the old house.  It was only when I moved out that I realised just how much I'd hated being there. A massive weight was lifted off my shoulders.  In fact I loved being out of the old house so much, that I developed an irrational fear of being told I had to move back.

So the irrational part of me was already expecting the knock on the door when it came.  Ruth, the woman from the property company, appeared on my doorstep on a Saturday afternoon; Could I accompany her to the old house?  there seems to be some kind of problem, and she doesn't know where the house is.

Lesser people would have claimed amnesia, and muttered that it was so long since they had sold the place, they too had forgotten details... I am not a lesser person.

Let's cut to the chase.  The "problem" was that a tank or a pipe, or something that normally carried (a lot of) water had burst.  For the past week water had been pouring down through the house. Not dripping, not trickling, but full scale pouring from the roof downwards. As we stood at the back door, we could only peer through a sheet of water upwards to the very roof itself, for the  flood had brought down both the bedroom  and kitchen ceilings.  Wires were hanging where the kitchen light used to be, for the light fitting and the rest of the ceiling was on the floor.  Pipes which had previously been under the bedroom floors were now visible, holding up what remained of the bedroom floors.

Ruth and I could get no further than the back door without hard hats, heavy duty raincoats and a squad of emergency plumbers.

..........

It's been two weeks now.... two weeks when I've reminded myself every day that I sold that house, and this is someone else's problem.

I always hated the old house.  What can I say? I bought it in a hurry, because we needed to move from Glasgow to Cheesetown before the (then) Cherub moved to high school. And most of my money was still stuck in Glasgow.

People tried to be nice.  Believe me, a lot of faint praise has been lavished on this place.....

• You get a nice view from here.  Yes things are better if you look out.
• Garden's easy to maintain Yes for it is tiny
• Nice you've got an en-suite.  Yes because the shower in the bathroom doesn't work.  At all. Ever
• So quaint.  Yes because nothing has been done maintenance wise since the last century.

And this house defeated me. The windows and back doors leaked in heavy rain.  And it rains a lot in Scotland.  Half of the upstairs windows were jammed closed.  Conveniently the other half never closed properly, but rattled in the gentlest of breezes.  The double glazing was shot. Even in high summer the place was freezing.  In winter we hugged the radiators (literally) or the dog or both.

And I'd had enough.. There's only so long you can happily remind yourself "At least it's cheap"

The problem was - how could I honestly sell this house in good faith to someone else? How could I fail to mention the strange smell from underneath the garage, and the recent spate of car burnings in the village?  How could I look any buyer in the eye and not mention that the house is on the way from the pub to the housing estate and you get woken up regularly in the wee small hours? I might be a drama queen, but I'm not a good enough actress to smile and mutter about being so sorry to leave this..

And so it was that I found a property developer who would accept my house in part exchange for a new house being built in a new development.  And they only had a huge five bed roomed place left. And I only had.. my house.  And so the deal was done.

And we both thought we'd got the best of the deal....

Which as any fule kno can't be the case...