Finding a new house to rent is a strange process. I talked about how we got to the stage we’re at now on Any Other Woman, so I won’t repeat myself here (I am only just starting out and don’t want to loose my readers already!), but let’s just say it hasn’t been all fun and games.
It really is hard to come to terms with the fact that we have to leave a house that we love for no other reason that it has been sold to someone else. Granted that is a pretty good reason to move, but it means that we haven’t stopped wanting to live here. (We are more than a little bit tempted to just not move and see what happens when the new owners come round…) We live in a lovely house, the kind of house that every time someone new comes round to visit it, they sign and say ‘now this is a lovely house!’ It has a ginnel, a garden with a huge rosemary bush and roses and peonies that pop-up between the greenery seemingly at random, and the perfect place to hang our huge print in the living room. But it also has less-than-conveniently sized bedrooms and ivy growing through the wall. Yes, I know.
The thing is that despite its imperfections (and in spite of its perfections) this is the first house we lived together in. The first place we have called home. The place where Tom proposed to me, the place we came back to from honeymoon. It will always be special to us and however amazing the next place we move into is, I know I will shed more than a few tears on the day we leave. They might be down to cleaning all of the blimin’ windows inside and out, but beggars can’t be choosers.
Our feelings for our house have, however, been slightly dampened by the whole process of being told we have to move out. I cannot say that our landlady or the estate agency that has sold the house for her have been the most appreciative of our feelings or, say, the fact that we might be asleep at 9 am the morning after we flew home from San Francisco… I never really had much of a problem with estate agents, until I was on the receiving end (so to speak) of the process. Is it so hard to believe that a couple renting a house would have an emotional attachment to the place? Or perhaps have feelings at all? Or maybe they want their back door locked after you leave? Hmm, maybe that is asking a little too much…
But yesterday we had a bit of a win! Our landlady had given us two months’ notice, meaning that we would be moving out at the beginning of September. But it turns out that calling your tenants at 10 pm on the night before their rent is due doesn’t count as ‘officially giving notice’, so we get to stay another month. In. Your. Face!
So our hunt for a place to rent continues. We are being stupidly picky, but once you’ve lived somewhere you love and then lost out on another place that you felt could also be home, that’s what happens.