Dot writes: we have the keys. We nearly didn’t – first the vendors’ solicitor, in a final paroxysm of rubbishness, didn’t complete all the documentation properly and our solicitor had to send it back to them by courier first thing this morning to be redone; then it took all day to sort out so that I only got the call to go out to pick the keys up at 4.15, with Ken needing me at home by 6.30 so he could go out in the evening; then I managed a little rubbishness of my own and had problems finding the office to get the keys from. But I got them. One set, anyway: the estate agent still has the others. And our solicitor issued a sage warning to get any building works done and then change all the locks, because you never quite know who else might have a set of keys somewhere.
My goodness this has taken a long time. First I blamed the banks (the two months it took to sort out our mortgage, despite going through a broker and having four different offers in the first place); then I blamed the vendors’ solicitor (where were their answers to all the queries?); then I blamed the council (what about that consent letter?); then I blamed the vendors themselves (how come they didn’t sign the contract until the 4th of August when we signed in June?); and finally I blamed the vendors’ solicitor again (and when I picked the keys up from said solicitor my preconceptions were somewhat borne out: piles of paper everywhere and a makeshift air). But we have our keys; and now we can get cross waiting for builders instead.
Actually I don’t feel as happy as I maybe ought to feel. I feel matter-of-fact about it. The house isn’t very exciting yet: it is drab and unlived in and there is a lot of work to be done. But I think gradually it, and I, will get happier and happier, as we fill up the place with our ideas and our stuff and our memories, and as we make new friends in the new place we are moving to. We’ve given notice here for the end of the month. Wish us luck.