Thursday, 2 September 2010
I'm not sure I have the gumption for this house selling business; I simply don't seem to be getting used to it at all. I find it so unsettling, even upsetting, to have to show strangers round my home. Most people are very nice; they look, they murmur, they ask a question or two, and nothing unpleasant or critical has ever been said or implied.
On the contrary; several viewers have been highly complimentary, and there have been thoughtful remarks about the lovely feel of the house, as well its looks. But it's nerve-wracking, nevertheless - for me, at least. The cats are getting used to it.
I show people around, tell them about the things they can't really see, but would soon find out about if they weren't in good order (which they are!) and then leave them to pootle round again on their own. Then I ask if there's anything else they want to know. I think I do the showing-round part well; I hope that my openness and straightforward response to questions reassures them that the house doesn't conceal any hidden horrors.
I doubt very much if I would feel any better if the estate agent did the showing-round while I lurked at a neighbour's house, fretting about the cats and their penchant for bringing gifts or donating hairballs.
After the viewers have gone, however, I feel wrung out and slightly tearful, every time. I daresay the loss of privacy accounts for this, to some extent; after all, even my close friends don't routinely venture beyond the public rooms. Perhaps it's the unspoken hope that underlies every viewing - hope that this person will be the one who loves my house enough to buy it, hope that I can then be freed to find my own next home, instead of living in this dressed-for-show house. I can hear some of you muttering "Get a grip, woman!" and you're right....
Today's viewer was very sweet, although I suspect was looking beyond her budget's capacity. She had left her husband and baby at home too - not a hopeful sign.
Lesley texted me to suggest lunch afterwards, and we walked through the leafy shortcut to the upper part of Jesmond in hot sunshine. I love September most of all months.
We had a very nice little lunch here in the cafe carved out of the old Methodist Church in the heart of Jesmond (it's not nearly as crowded and busy as it looks in those photos, and is an easy relaxed place to sit and unwind) and on leaving, bought an ice cream to take out with us - a Wheelbirks ice cream, from the dairy farm with the Ice Cream Parlour that Annie and I visited not so long ago. Just as good second time round!
And then I came home; the upside of having viewings is the tidiness, the fresh flowers, the sparkling cleanliness everywhere. Except for the places where the boxes remain, still packed; the plan is to leave them until next month, when I shall give in gracefully and unpack them.
But not yet.
Posted by rachel at 17:09