Yes, it's me.
Writing to you from MY NEW GAFF.
Yep, that's right. Inside a property that I am paying for, cleaning in, washing myself and all my clothes in, burping in, farting in and keeping neat and tidy. Although when I say `paying for' I of course mean covering a 50% share of - the other half being that of the Chuppies. As it is OUR place, so please excuse the `my new gaff' phrase I typed earlier but I am just so ruddy excited about having a little place of my own - scrap that : of OUR own - that I am sure you will excuse the odd mistake. Even if I spend the remainder of this blogging post yammering on about the property as if it was just mine.
Which of course it isnt.
So, where to start. Well I guess the moving in day would do just as anywhere for a good starting point. Which took place on the 3rd of May. Nearly two weeks ago.
The sun was shining. The birds were whistling. And me and the Chuppies were holed up at my folks for the morning waiting for the big `key release' moment from the estate agents. Whilst we didnt anticipate getting the keys until late morning, excitement, nerves and a mild impatience at moving the ruddy fuck in, had led to us getting to the folks at just before 8.30am. About half an hour before the estate agents even opened. And an hour before our solicitors were going to transfer funds to `the other side'. However, it felt the best thing to be down in a place nearby so that we would be ready to get the keys at a moment's notice, and so we drank a few drinks and waited.
The first contact came in at about 10am which was an e-mail from our solicitor confirming that the other side now had the necessary funds and that whilst the other side's solicitor wasnt actually in her office yet we should, hopefully, hear word within half an hour as to the release of the keys. Bottoms clenched and smiles at rigor mortis level, we carried on with the wait until (lawks a mercy on high) the estate agents contacted me to let me know the keys were ready for collection whenever we were.
"Thank you" I calmly responded to the agent, before terminating the call, and then, with the Chuppies, indulged in lots of hugs and handshakes with the folks.
And then we were off.
The estate agents were just ten minutes up the road (by van) and so it wasnt long before the Chuppies had parked up in a nearby side road and I'd scampered out heading straight to the estate agents shopfront like a manic homing pigeon to its beacon. Carefully noting the `Pull Door' sign next to the door, I'd deftly pulled it towards me and skilfully manoeuvred in - whilst tripping up the door's entrance step and dragging in half of the external matting in with me.
But this did not matter. For whilst all the agents in the office were positioned (slightly scarily) so that they all faced the door and were looking on silently with hungry estate agent faces as I entered (slightly trippily) into their domain, I immediately recognised our agent - the one who showed us round the gaff back in February and the one whom myself and the Chuppies had (affectionately) nicknamed `Bum Fluff' what with him being so young and blessed with oodles of blond wispy facial hair - and rushed over to his desk.
"Hello, can I help you?" Bum Fluff warbled in a slightly concerned fashion, which might have been to do with the fact that all the house excitement and what-not had led to my (facial) cheeks flushing, my left eyelid to develop a tic and my upper lip to bead up with sweat.
"Er, hello, yes," I replied, trying all at once to calm down, but having no luck whatsoever. So I carried on, "I'm here to pick up the keys for XX XXXXXXXX XXXXXX."
"O, sorry" Bum Fluff chuckled, causing his facial hair to whirl up dramatically, "I didnt recognise you at first!"
Bum Fluff then picked up a white envelope with `Keys' written on the front and handed them over whilst saying, "Here are your keys. Congratulations!"
"O, great, yes, er, thanks, thanks very much" I gibbered, whilst snatching the envelope out of Bum Fluff's pasty white hands, and hotfooting it out of the estate agents.
Hopping back in to the Chuppies' work van, we sped at high speed (although within the legal limit of course) over to the property and parked up outside.
This was it. We had the keys, the sun was (still) shining, the birds were (still) tweeting, and we were going to head in.
But only slightly. As, whilst the Chuppies rather noisily took to emptying out his bowels, I took a moment to walk round the gaff, admire it's roominess, stare a bit at the back garden, and marvel at the length of the garage and the fact that it had light and power, along with our little garden shed. By the time the Chuppies had finished I had completed my tour and still could not believe the property was all ours.
I still cant. It's not a mansion but, then, I never wanted one.
It's a little plump bungalow near the sea with acres of off road parking and a substantially sized back garden. It is a bit dated (cork fireplace, polystyrene ceiling tiles and carpeting everywhere - which includes skirting boards and the odd bath panel!) and a little neglected (cobwebs and spiders ahoy!), but with the Chuppies' brawn (he's currently hanging a brand new front door and door frame) and London-Lass' brains, we're gonna make it lovely.