ANYWAY back to the subject matter.
My house is (funnily enough) still for sale and this means that I am still polishing my doilies, begging the children to stop chipping the paintwork and welcoming 'potential buyers' (a.k.a freaks from the swamps of hell) into my home.
So far we have seen:
1. The trio (I'm not sure of the relationship between the one woman and two men involved. I don't WANT to know the relationship) of 'exceptionally large people with home-done tattoos' (they looked they'd been drawing on each other with biros) one of whom got stuck in my stair gate.
I'm not sure of the etiquette one should apply when a 30 stone woman who looks like she eats raw kittens for breakfast gets jammed in one's staircase but saying 'don't worry, I'm taking that bit with me' clearly didn't cut the mustard as she (and her two male 'friends') declared the house too small. Surprised? Err, no. I wasn't.
2. The duo of guys who looked like Snoop Dogg and Ice- T who turned up an hour before the estate agent and when I opened the door just walked straight in and started opening my cupboard doors. I was still trying to work out if I was being viewed or robbed when one of them asked to see my consumer panel. I had no idea what my consumer panel was (it's the electrical bits under the stairs in case you are as ignorant as I am) but he found it anyway. And he looked in my loft and banged all my walls and grilled me on how many bits of the house I would leave behind before saying he would make an offer and then disappearing into the sunset to somewhere where nobody can contact him.
3. The incredibly dozy couple who complained the house had no off-street parking after they had parked on the driveway.......
Need I go on?
Anyway if the viewers have been horrifying me, today I turned the tables and horrified them.
It happened like this:
I had a friend and her son round this morning. So that is 3 small boys in 1 small space which equals - chaos.
Every bit of the floor was covered in cars and railway paraphernalia and books and (even better) they'd taken all my sofa cushions off to make (I quote) 'a waterfall' which they could climb up and fall down the other side of.
We welcomed this chaos - they were happy and entertained and we could talk and drink a cup of hot tea in (relative) peace.
During this chaos the postman arrived and delivered 2 magazines.
One was a catalogue for ladies with a 'larger than average bosom'.
One was a midwifery journal featuring some (even for my hardened tastes) rather graphic birth photographs. The most glorious of which was a lady on all fours pushing a baby's head out.
Other than a baby's rather squished head coming out of a rather small hole the photograph also showed the phenomenon of 'anal gaping' i.e. as the baby's head crowns the lady's bum hole opens right up. As my friend said 'my word - it's ever so big!'.
All a bit much first thing in the morning.
ANYWAY the time came for us to leave and take my eldest child to school nursery in time for lunch and off we went leaving behind the chaos and the unflushed toilet (nobody can flush my toilet, it's like the Rubik's cube of toilet puzzles) and the big bosomed busty birds in their lacy panties and the big bellied bird with the baby hanging out of her fandango and a big poo hole on full display..........
And when I came back what did I find?
A message on the answermachine from the estate agent saying he had a couple who were very eager to view our house and as I wasn't in and he had keys he would just let himself in and show they round.......
OH. DEAR. GOD. THE. SHAME.
I can imagine it now:
'And here we have the living room. Ah! Let me just help you over the indoor 'waterfall' feature. Oh sorry - I shouldn't have done that. There is nowhere for you to actually stand in the living room as the entire carpet is covered by a model railway - a somewhat interesting feature! Never mind - lets move through to the kitchen diner....... As you can see there is room for a good sized table for you to dine or read at...... OH MY WORD....I think it's best we go upstairs now.....'.
I phoned the estate agent, beyond mortified with shame.
He told me not to worry - the couple he showed round were childless but expecting twins. He told them the house represented what was about to happen to their lives.....
Selling a dream? More like selling a nightmare.
He's phoning them tomorrow for feedback.
They're probably in counselling.
And best of all? Apparently they live in a flat about 200 yards from the my house so forever more (or until somebody bloody well buys this place) they will walk past me in the street muttering 'my god, there's that woman with the filthy house and the sick pictures of bum holes on her kitchen table'.
Sigh. My reputation just grows and grows.....