"The keys have been released"

Guys, this last year it has taken every ounce of my restraint to prevent my blip posts from becoming one long, daily rant against the industry that surrounds the buying and selling of houses. 

When the Minx and I first talked about ending her tenancy in Chorley and buying a place in Manchester, I was pretty much fixated on the location and that was all. If I'm honest, I was happily ambivalent about the places she found on the various estate agents' websites. And then we found a place in Salford that we both absolutely loved. 

So we offered the asking price only to be told by the estate agent that the minimum price the vendor would accept was £20,000 more than that. Then there was the fact that we couldn't find a mortgage company that could read a set of company books. And on and on it went.

Believe me, I am truncating this tale MASSIVELY but eventually we happened upon a tenacious mortgage broker called Kevin Stead who hooked us up with Handelsbanken and finally matters proceeded in the manner I'd always expected (and a hat tip here to Arnold Grreenwood solicitors, too).

Just when we appeared to be on the home straight, though, South Lakeland District Council became involved and the day *after* our search was due back they announced it would be another two and a half weeks. (Cue understandably aggrieved vendor!)

Even today, the day we exchanged and completed, was fraught. In the end, Abi and I set off south from Kirkby Lonsdale hoping that by the time we reached the estate agents in Swinton all would be sorted. And, indeed, halfway down the M6 we received a call from the solicitor. After ten excruciating seconds of pleasantries, it became clear everything was signed and sealed. 

I couldn't bear for the Minx to endure the same agony and when she answered her phone, I simply said "the keys have been released".

I collected said keys from the estate agents half an hour later and while I was there, I asked for the burglar alarm code. "We don't have it but it won't be set" I was told with 100% confidence.

Well, you know what's coming next. 

Turn the key, open the door, MIND BUGGERINGLY LOUD NOISE to announce to all the neighbours that we'd arrived. 

The Minx rang the estate agents who immediately became flustered themselves and, in desperation, I rang the alarm company, who, mercifully, turned out to be based around the corner. "He'll be there in two minutes" I was told and he pretty much was. God bless life in the city.

The Minx, Abi, and I did a little unpacking and moving in and then walked down the road to Porta for drinks, tapas, and a massive "PHEW!"

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No scales (no batteries!)
Reading: 'The Vanishing Half' by Brit Bennett