So I took a call from our friendly property manager this morning, politely informing me that he's due for the annual 'house contents/condition' check and more especially so, seeing as we're going to SA for a couple of weeks this coming Sunday evening.*
When we arrived at the house on December 7th (I think it was) 2012, we had to wait around a bit for Nige (he's a fuckin' legend**) to pitch up in his Bentley/Rolls/Merc (Insert up-market car of choice here, can't remember other than it was uber-larney). He was ever so nice, we all liked him from the start - a short round faced little man with glasses, fat fingers and immaculate dress sense, his long winkel-picker type shoes shone (for Chrissake who's shoes shine these days?!?). He looked like he'd been scrubbed, dressed, pressed and laundered. Then he proceeded to walk us through the house with his clipboard and tons of papers that had to be signed in each room. We had to check EVERYTHING ... and I mean the entire contents of each bare room. This exercise might not sound like much but when you have to tick off the condition of window sills, window latches, windows, blinds, blind mechanisms, paint surface, radiators, flooring, skirting boards, light fittings, electrical points, cupboard doors, shelving in cupboards and eventually the keys PER ROOM ... it can get a bit exhausting. And consider that we'd arrived in the early hours of that morning at Heathrow, had a hell of a time of it trying to get to the hire car depot in the freezing weather, lugging piles of suitcases around and crying children. We were hungry, tired, wanted KFC/MickyD/whatever takeaway we could find, our blow up mattresses, sleeping bags and doo-doo (in that order). But we bit our lips, kiddies didn't make too much noise exploring their new surroundings and soon enough, we bid farewell to Nige (he's a fuckin' legend) and we got on with life in Ye Old Blightey.
He's coming back here tomorrow morning, after I've dropped the kiddies off at school. So of course, I now have to run around like ... eish, the ousie ... and deep clean the house, cos I don't really know where our Nige (he's a fuckin' legend) is going to poke his nose and clipboard, do I? Innit.
* Yep folks ... we leave the United Kingdom on Sunday 9th February via British Airways and arrive in the always tourist-friendly climes of OR Tambo Airport the following morning. (Just two weeks away, unfortunately).
** Courtesy/Copyright maybe even of Kevin Bloody Wilson