Last June, I did this. And you all know the highs and lows of the tragi-comedy that occurred thereafter, and the earnestness with which I tried to maintain a terrifyingly clean and tidy house in case of a viewer turning into a buyer. All, all in vain. Viewers, voyeurs, same difference; lots of lovely feedback, no further offers. An exhausting six months.
Earlier this month, the house on which I had made an offer, the lovely house and garden in a Somerset village, and the beautiful beech tree by the little stream, was sold to someone else. I gritted my teeth, and felt mostly relieved, glad that I could let it go, and only have one house to worry about, although now and again, l think longingly of that beech tree.
My own house had its final viewing tonight. (A dispiriting experience, really. No, we have enough student houses round here, thank you, and I'm not cancelling my new bathroom in order to preserve a small fourth bedroom to make even more money for a landlord.)
The For Sale board came down of its own accord a while ago in the gales, and as of tonight I am no longer a Vendor, open for business on demand, ready to show strangers round the rarely-glimpsed recesses of my home and to answer dull but worthy/downright daft questions about wiring and insulation and is there a garden?
So that's that. No more viewings; the house is off the market until such time as I'm ready to try again.The bathroom work starts on Friday. The sainted Richie (of whom more in due course) says not to worry about the room still being full of boxes because I've been too unwell to clear it; he will help me, no probs. Splendid, reassuring chap.
I now have freedom to relax a bit till Spring. Unnatural tidiness begone! Tatty slippers on show and clumps of cat hair on the stair carpet no longer a source of shame, unco-ordinated towels in the bathroom no longer the mark of a clueless Vendor, but an ordinary person who is a bit thrifty with household linens. The cats, the dogs, their toys and their gnarly stumps of soggy chews can lie about anywhere till Spring; the windows can have festive nose marks. We don't care! It's our home, after all, not just 'a property'.