Bricks and glass

Dot writes: so, we have put down a deposit equivalent to one month’s rent on the teeny-weeny house in Dalkey. Happily, it is not as teeny-weeny as I remembered and I think we can be very cosy there, even on rainy days. I feel extremely relieved because I’ve managed to get my knickers in a right twist over this, to the extent of three successive nights spent in fevered insomniac calculations on how we will get all our furniture in. The problem partly has been that, after we decided on Friday morning to put in a fairly low offer and just see what happened, I ended up in a bidding war against another couple, with Ken at a colloquium and thus largely unable to take part, and by the end of the day, having had my final offer of five euros above the original asking price accepted, I was frazzled, tearful, and wholly unsure that I had done the right thing. If the filing cabinet would fit in the living room where would we put the blue bookcase? If we have the trunk in the bedroom does the desk have to be downstairs, and in that case where do we put the filing cabinet? Could we make room for the trunk if we put Hugh in the garden shed? These kinds of ponderings make for long and lonely wakings in the small hours, not improved by the fact that the main gate at Ridge Hall (which is right by our bedroom) has developed an irritating squeak.

However, I do now feel much more confident about the decision to move. This is because of three main developments. In reverse time order: we went to see the house again at lunchtime, and it is bigger and with better storage than I remembered. This morning the letting agent decided that, since they can’t get hold of our landlord, they had better make a decision on his behalf about our request for a rent reduction, and the minimum rent they’ve proposed is more than we want to pay. And, also making the decision to move rather easier, though otherwise not contributing to calmness in the last few days, on Sunday Hugh went out onto our balcony – our very own balcony – and got an inch-long cut in his foot from a great shard of glass that had wedged itself between two slats. Someone on the balcony above must have smashed a beer glass. This kind of thing doesn’t happen in a terraced house, unless your neighbourhood is cursed with very strong, very careless magpies.

So now we just have to pack. While stopping Hugh from constantly taking his plaster off. And marking exam scripts. But the weather is heavenly and we will have a garden!


8 thoughts on “Bricks and glass

  1. Helen Conrad-O'Briain

    You can put the trunk in our attic if you promise to carry down the bolt of quilt batting and the seriously old suitcases.

  2. katimum

    Actually I now have a dent in the bonnet of my car – we think that one of the local corvines dropped a surprisingly large stone on it. Or it could just have been the church tower falling apart.

    Hope you are all very happy in your little house – we have been very happy in ours all these years!

    1. katimum

      No, the tower just has a bad habit of shedding flints from the decorative but not totally stable facing, possibly as a consequence of a bad fire we had 28 years ago – and the one big privilege a churchwarden has is to park right next to the church – having, of course, arrived before everyone else and then being last to leave. Alice will remember well the joys of this. We narrowly missed having a pinnacle land on the car during a very windy Sunday a couple of years ago, but they have recently been repaired and renovated. Oh, the joys of maintaining a medieval church! (Margaret Paston, of the Paston Letters, helped to pay for the tower when it was built, having been born in the hall opposite. I wonder if we could claim a sub from her royalties.)

  3. kenanddot

    Thanks for all the good wishes! We will now have an attic of our own so should be able to stop borrowing space in other people’s, but thankyou very much for the offer. In fact the storage in the new house is pretty good. It’s just that we have so many bookcases…

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