Sunday 11 February 2018
6 degrees with sunny spells
A surprising flush of clients this week. Often February is dead, estate agency wise, but not this year. And not last year either.
First out of the blocks are an English couple who have mined to extinction the possibilities of the Dordogne and are now down in the deep south-west. The area agent rings me up. 'Sell them something!' she exhorts. They have seen an awful lot of property with her and if I find them a property, she will be in for a cut of fees.
The meeting is in front of a small hotel in town. I used to meet people in front of the big hotel but often they would go inside or be on the opposite side or think it was a shop. No, it is an actual Casino. No such problems with the small hotel and they are there but need the loo. The trick is to look purposeful. I march them past reception and into the loos and hide behind a pillar. A waiter comes along and I edge carefully around so he cant see me.
Off to the first house, their declared favourite. It all goes well until we get inside and I can see their faces dropping. No matter how many photos people see, there is nothing like putting your feet inside a property. I keep losing them - one minute I am leading and throwing open doors and shutters and then..... where on earth have they gone? The man is not easily leadable and keeps saying 'what is in here,' and disappearing into cupboards and lofts and cellars. 'Is this the broom cupboard?' he enquires, holding the door open on a small room filled with mops, buckets, dusters and brooms
They go outside to look at the pool again and I lock up and they have completely vanished. I discover the man had come back in when I was upstairs and he is now locked in the garage. I let him out and find his wife down the end of the road. This is going to be hard work. I get them back into the car and off to the second property.
'What did you feel about that house?' I ask as we are bowling along. The man grips the side of the seat. He feels he should have a steering wheel in front of him. 'We never talk about houses on the same day as we see them', he informs me. 'It is one of our things'. Great....
We get to the second house and the lady leaps out of the car and says 'oh I like this one'. We were there for over an hour and I only lose them twice and they are smiling as I take them back to the hotel and arrange to see them first thing. 'What do you think of the house?' says the lady to the man 'oh, I dont know' he replied.
A quick coffee and then it is time to meet a Scottish couple who are dressing as trawlermen. It is really not that wet and cold here in Winter. We head off into the light drizzle and attract the attention of passing motorists. They have asked to see a tiny bijou of a town house with patio and pool. The owner is present and has her chihuahua under one arm. Barbara (name changed) is always immaculately turned out. Today, she was wearing a natty ensemble of a cinnamon coloured fine knit top and a multicoloured panelled skirt and boots. And jewellery. Her default style is more is more. She looked at the Scots and the Scots took in her finery. 'Come in' she breathed ' and welcome'. As usual, the house was spotless and the Scots were impressed and spent a good half hour before heading off somewhere by Lourdes.
I had a hot chocolate in the Casino and watched people on the slot machines. The rain hammered on the cast iron and glass ceiling and seagulls shot over, in full voice. Back home to more seafood risotto. OH has made enough to feed a multitude. He had spent entire day putting up one small heater in the bathroom. Apparently the walls are hard to drill......
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