The Glorious Seventeenth

Finally, finally, finally we exchanged contracts today on the house I used to live in, 13 months after we accepted an offer from our next-door neighbours. The first chain collapsed last March because of Covid. The second one has taken an age to put in place and very late in the process we discovered that the person at the bottom, on whom we all depend, is dishonest and manipulative. At her mean, uncommunicative, stroppy insistence we won't complete until late March. But now that everything is agreed, signed and swapped I know when I'll be able to repay most of my debts, just as long as none of the seven individuals in the chain dies between now and the end of March. Cross your fingers for me and all seven of us. Even the person at the bottom. She can die in April. (Oops, sorry, I didn't mean my fingers to write that.)