Well, I don't have a house. I have the keys to a house. And my name is on a contract. My name, and a man I've never heard of. His name is similar to Mr. C's, but there are a few distinct differences. The spelling mainly. Yes, that's right. The not-so-efficient letting agency got Mr. C's name wrong. Twice. Three different spellings all together. I think he's going to have to take my name once we're married - I can't be doing with people getting my name wrong all the time. I'd have uncontrollable outbreaks of pedantry, and that wouldn't be pretty.
The not-so-efficient letting agency also managed to botch up the collection of the keys, having had them delivered to one office and telling us to attend another. So the much anticipated Key Collection Day had to be postponed, albeit only for 24 hours.
Anyhoo - I have a house! I collected the keys yesterday and, with a great sense of relief and anticipation, made my way to my new home.
It was freezing inside. All of the windows upstairs were open - not a bad thing, at least it didn't have that stale smell empty properties can have - and being empty, it had that abandoned feel about it. After a quick swoop of the house to make sure it really was empty (I've seen far too many true crime documentaries!), I set about completing my To-Do List.
1. Read the meters: Gas, check. Water - hadn't realised the water was metered. Oops. Anyway, water, check. Electricity... Electricity meter... Hmm. I searched the house and couldn't find one. The lights worked, the plugs didn't, so the electricity was on (in part), but where was the meter? Second check of the house and I spotted it. Nestled above the front door, a good seven feet from the floor. Now being a five-foot nothing hobbit, this presented a bit of a problem. However, I'm nothing if not daring (stupid?), and decided it would be a good idea to step off the third step of the stairs and onto the radiator, thus balancing and able to reach the electricity meter. It worked and I'm pleased to say that both myself and the radiator survived intact.
1a. (amendment) Add step ladder to the To Buy List.
2. Check everything is working: I'd sorted the electricity in the Great Breaker Box Hunt, so I knew that was all in order. Next up, gas. I opened the boiler cupboard to find a bright yellow warning label attached to the boiler. "At Risk" it declared "Danger of Death". Excellent. There was a certificate with it explaining further - the boiler's ventilation was faulty. Cue several phone calls back and forth to the not-so-efficient letting agency. The fault had been fixed and a copy of the safety certificate would be put in the post, so nothing to worry about. Phew! I hope. Having had carbon monoxide poisoning once, it's not an experience I'd like to repeat... Next I turned to the water. Very low pressure - not a good sign - followed by a trickle and then nothing. I investigated beneath the sink and found two stopcocks - one of which I could not have turned if my life had depended on it. So the water remained off. Damn, I really needed the toilet now I knew I couldn't use it...
3. Clear up mountain of unread post: Most of it was junk mail - leaflets from Lidl and the like - but there were some 'proper' letters in there, addressed to at least three different people. This set me off wondering who else used to live here? And what are the neighbours like? I wonder if they'll let me use their toilet...
4. Clean! I spent many hours cleaning. The place was in pretty good condition, but the kitchen and bathroom were in definite need of attention. Armed with rubber gloves, de-greaser and litres of antibacterial cleaning solution (kills 99.99% of germs!) I scrubbed and scraped (grease - *shudder*), wiped and polished, and mopped and vacuumed. When I could clean no more, I stepped back to admire my handiwork. I have to say, the place looked good. Empty, but good. Not quite a home yet, but it will be.
5. Fill house with stuff (pending) and live happily ever after.
Once I've been to the toilet that is...
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