That was the week that was.
Oct. 1st, 2019 03:40 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
smokingbootWell that was terrible.
And now I have proper internet access back rather than some tiddly screen on a phone, I intend to thoroughly enjoy expounding upon it.
Beginning
Bro wants to be friends. I agreed, subject to sincerity on his part.
Mum is panicking about why she can't reach Bro on the phone.
Our completion date is an arse-about thing, but no matter, we are reassured by solicitors, in Scotland, exchange and completion often occur on the same day. Or something like that.
Bro puts up on his FB that he is in France and has had his phone nicked.
I tell Mum. She is offended. If he can be on FB, why can't he reach her? I list reasons.
Later
I go on FB and talk to a stranger. Bro leaps in and in a complete non-sequiteur, calls me a liar. Suspecting something is wrong, I evince a cool tone saying I'm surprised at his.
He then goes full Mrs Reid vsJane Eyre on me, and in extraordinary ways that sound both insanely condescending and grandiose, makes such a total meal of it that even the stranger feels for me. I tell Bro to go to hell and stay there. Shortest reconciliation ever.
Mum phones me, demanding to know if my brother is still in France.
I say I don't know, and am not likely to as we've had a row and I have blocked him.
Mum phones me again and again wondering if I can find out if he is still in France.
I repeat my answer. Convinced that there must be some way I can find out if he is still in France, Mum phones me a few more times.
Mutual friend tells me that Bro has been very erratic recently, aggressive, which is not unusual, but foggy and vague on his points, which is.
The Day and Night Before
My husband travels up, the furniture goes up the day before. I stay with a sleeping bag, half a loaf of bread and 4 cats.
Moving Day
Cats caged, put in DEFRA approved van, away they go. I say goodbye to the house and get to the airport.
Due to a problem earlier in the year, our buyer's chain free status turned out not to be the case. So she has to wait for her buyer's solicitor to transfer the money to her, then she can transfer her money to us then our solicitor can transfer it to our vendors. Not exactly the end of the world, except the person buying our property doesn't get into gear or her solicitor doesn't shift, and the transaction is at standstill. Result? My husband, our worldly goods, our cats and I are all on our way towards Edinburgh and may well be homeless by the end of the day's business. The furniture arrives, as does my husband in gloom. These things are normally concluded by 12 noon. 3.30, no move as yet. A solicitor mate who knows her stuff tells R that this is indeed cutting it very fine. My vision is of our stuff being strewn across the lawn of an empty house while two humans and four infuriated cats spend the night in a mini convertible parked outside.
My brother sends me a thoroughly horrible email. Another block.
I get off the plane at around 5.30
The transaction has been completed. I get to the house to find R rejoicing, boxes everywhere, and the cats expressing their disapproval of the last 24 hours.
And Then
My mother phones me to tell me that she spoke to my brother at last, and that he had been attacked by 3 men in France, but she had forgotten to ask hin how he was, and he doesn't seem to be answering his new phone so could I phone or could I ask a cousin to phone my brother, then tell me what he said, which I could then relay to her?
I tell her to stop being so silly, that if he's not answering his phone to her, he probably won't answer it to anyone else in the family. Repeat for about 3 calls.
An aged aunt from Spain calls me. She congratulates me on the new house. She tells me she has news.
'Your brother was attacked by three men in France,' she said magisterially, adding with a pause. 'I would never have thought it of the French.' She goes on to say that Mum is desperately ringing around everyone to see if they can get through to him just to confirm that he is well. We talk for a while.
Later my mother phones. She got through! He told her to leave him alone. 'He was a little down in the dumps, ' she admitted.
Meantime we have bought two beds, a TV and home movie system, and now I am here looking at Farrow and Ball paints. The cats are sitting nearby. Scotland, Scotland, you be gentle to your weary daughter. I cannot help but bring some madness with me...
And now I have proper internet access back rather than some tiddly screen on a phone, I intend to thoroughly enjoy expounding upon it.
Beginning
Bro wants to be friends. I agreed, subject to sincerity on his part.
Mum is panicking about why she can't reach Bro on the phone.
Our completion date is an arse-about thing, but no matter, we are reassured by solicitors, in Scotland, exchange and completion often occur on the same day. Or something like that.
Bro puts up on his FB that he is in France and has had his phone nicked.
I tell Mum. She is offended. If he can be on FB, why can't he reach her? I list reasons.
Later
I go on FB and talk to a stranger. Bro leaps in and in a complete non-sequiteur, calls me a liar. Suspecting something is wrong, I evince a cool tone saying I'm surprised at his.
He then goes full Mrs Reid vsJane Eyre on me, and in extraordinary ways that sound both insanely condescending and grandiose, makes such a total meal of it that even the stranger feels for me. I tell Bro to go to hell and stay there. Shortest reconciliation ever.
Mum phones me, demanding to know if my brother is still in France.
I say I don't know, and am not likely to as we've had a row and I have blocked him.
Mum phones me again and again wondering if I can find out if he is still in France.
I repeat my answer. Convinced that there must be some way I can find out if he is still in France, Mum phones me a few more times.
Mutual friend tells me that Bro has been very erratic recently, aggressive, which is not unusual, but foggy and vague on his points, which is.
The Day and Night Before
My husband travels up, the furniture goes up the day before. I stay with a sleeping bag, half a loaf of bread and 4 cats.
Moving Day
Cats caged, put in DEFRA approved van, away they go. I say goodbye to the house and get to the airport.
Due to a problem earlier in the year, our buyer's chain free status turned out not to be the case. So she has to wait for her buyer's solicitor to transfer the money to her, then she can transfer her money to us then our solicitor can transfer it to our vendors. Not exactly the end of the world, except the person buying our property doesn't get into gear or her solicitor doesn't shift, and the transaction is at standstill. Result? My husband, our worldly goods, our cats and I are all on our way towards Edinburgh and may well be homeless by the end of the day's business. The furniture arrives, as does my husband in gloom. These things are normally concluded by 12 noon. 3.30, no move as yet. A solicitor mate who knows her stuff tells R that this is indeed cutting it very fine. My vision is of our stuff being strewn across the lawn of an empty house while two humans and four infuriated cats spend the night in a mini convertible parked outside.
My brother sends me a thoroughly horrible email. Another block.
I get off the plane at around 5.30
The transaction has been completed. I get to the house to find R rejoicing, boxes everywhere, and the cats expressing their disapproval of the last 24 hours.
And Then
My mother phones me to tell me that she spoke to my brother at last, and that he had been attacked by 3 men in France, but she had forgotten to ask hin how he was, and he doesn't seem to be answering his new phone so could I phone or could I ask a cousin to phone my brother, then tell me what he said, which I could then relay to her?
I tell her to stop being so silly, that if he's not answering his phone to her, he probably won't answer it to anyone else in the family. Repeat for about 3 calls.
An aged aunt from Spain calls me. She congratulates me on the new house. She tells me she has news.
'Your brother was attacked by three men in France,' she said magisterially, adding with a pause. 'I would never have thought it of the French.' She goes on to say that Mum is desperately ringing around everyone to see if they can get through to him just to confirm that he is well. We talk for a while.
Later my mother phones. She got through! He told her to leave him alone. 'He was a little down in the dumps, ' she admitted.
Meantime we have bought two beds, a TV and home movie system, and now I am here looking at Farrow and Ball paints. The cats are sitting nearby. Scotland, Scotland, you be gentle to your weary daughter. I cannot help but bring some madness with me...
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