Contract of Sale

A quick picture of George Street in Hastings Old Town (horizontal street with shops), just to remind you where we are at the moment; good ol' Pud Lady's getting well spoiled in all directions. We had a special mission yesterday while we were waiting for things to progress in the house-buying sector, we had to go buy a specific item for a special lady (no names no pack drill, we will reveal all when a special day (for her) is with us). Mum gave us instructions and Tom pointed us in the direction of the excellent, non-chain, shops which proliferate through Hastings Old Town.

We scored the 'item' in pretty much the first shop Dad went in, so we could then spend the rest of the hour's parking ticket wandering up and down alleys and the olde back streets which climb the cliffs behind the high street-front houses. Down here is a tiny flag-stoned 'twitten' climbing the hillside called Cobourg Place. Too narrow for cars and with frequent bits steep enough that they are replaced by steps, the top of this 'street' is where Pud Lady and the late Stamp Man lived when they were first married and had only so far produced Dad's elder brother, Tom. Apparently the removal men did not love them very much (!) and they got very fit pushing prams and any shopping up the mountain, not having, in those days, any car. This is 1955-56 we are talking about, so Dad was barely an evil glint in Stamp Man's eyes. The picture barely does it justice only showing the bottom few yards - Cobourg Place goes round the corner and up, up and up to where you can see the dark green tree top centre of the picture.

Also yesterday the two bits of paper arrived which allow the house-buying to progress. These were the Contract of Sale, which everyone has to sign to tie in the buyers (Mum and Dad), but weirdly not yet the vendors, to the deal. Also the second International Draft which is the balance on paying for the house in Euro. We all drove to Diamond's yesterday to find Mum so that all the signing could be done, and Mum and Dad had fish and chips as Diamond was off out with John to Canterbury for the evening.

Today, with the vital documents signed by all parties, Dad posts them off safely to the Irish Solicitors. Once they arrive that's it. We are legally bound to buy the place. No escape unless the vendors choose not to sell to us, so it feels like a real milestone. Needless to say, though, it is not the end of the affair or indeed of paying for things - no sooner does Dad email the solicitors to say the CoS is in the post, than they are onto us again for another International Transfer, this time for their own fees for doing the conveyancing. Still, other than this, we beleive we are now all up to date this end and can only sit back while the searches go on on the Irish side (presumably for new motorways, mining subsidence, bankruptcy of vendors, environmental stuff, Rights of Way etc), same as they all did over this side when we were selling in Faversham.

Exhausted

Deefs

Three Wheels on my Wagon

We spend much of Tuesday back up the old haunts of Faversham and about. We drive up after breakfast in Hastings to the boat yard to collect the 2CV and then to drive that across to Llew's workshop just east of Canterbury. Dad's mission is to do the rust-proof thang on the remaining three wheels (2 rears and the 2nd spare) - that is to scrape, chisel, wire-brush and hammer-peen the inner face of the rims (normally out of sight) clear of rust, then coat them with a quick drying gloopy layer of zinc chromate primer, and finally a hard glossy layer of "axle-black". The theory is that they will then last a good few more years and this is the final bit of titivating the car into its best possible state for the Irish adventure and its Irish life. Touch lots of wood and not wishing to, in any way, tempt fate, but it is sounding quite sweet at present in our humble opinion.

We dogs love it at Llew's. His 'workshop' is actually some huge abandoned greenhouses once used for commercial horticulture and now cleared and full of cars and car bits. Earth-floored under the glass, they are as dry as dust and the dust has long since started to pick up car-based grot such as he rust and dust from power tools, dripped oil and solvents as well as the leavings of passing chickens, rabbits and other beasties. the stacks of car bits and well-loaded shelving and racks make superb nooks and crannies for a dog to explore looking for interesting smells, and there are acres of this stuff.

So, while Haggis might mooch about and mainly sleep, I am everywhere, in, under, between, through, over, behind and beside. Llew's own dogs, the tea-drinking Rosie and the mad Westie pup (almost a year old now) who has become know as Boris the B*****d by Llew, who cannot stop him from barking and taking on bigger dogs, tend to be kept tied up on looooong strings which is OK till they wrap themselves round the aforementioned junk, trailer wheels, cars etc. So when I'm in range, Boris helps with the searching, but mainly I am way off at the far end of a greenhouse or under the hedge where his rope won't reach. Rosie, like Haggis, sleeps through most of this.

Unfortunately, I tend to emerge covered in the dark dust and in need of a shower so, wouldn't you know it, I am pristine, white and fluffy today having been shampooed again. Mum will be impressed when we next meet (unless I can think of another way of getting back to filthy). The wheels done, we return the car to it's parking and hop in the 'modern car' to head back to Pud Lady's place.

Today was mainly about Dad doing the Hort Soc accounts. He is Treasurer just till the end of this financial year, and can then hand the baton on to 'Alf' the new guy. So he must crunch the numbers for 2010/11 and pass these in to the auditor for checking, before presenting them at the AGM in December, his parting visit to the Society and swan-song. He's been doing it for 11 years now, so has probably done his share. He will be pleased to hand it over at last.

In between that, when the figures were starting to fry Dad's brain, we went for a walk across Hastings's West Hill hoping for a look in the Castle. The Castle though, is now pay-to-get-in and also No Dogs Allowed, so we satisfied ourselves with a gawp from outside and took these couple of pictures, one of the Old Town with its net huts, beached fishing fleet and touristy bits from above and the other a chunk of castle entrance.

Supper time now.

Deefs