Profile
Blog
Photos
Videos
How much?
Police sirens day and night, fatal knife attacks nearby, illegal squatters in the park opposite, litter everywhere, politicians with their fingers (and in fact both hands and most of their arms) in the till,yep you've guessed it, we are back in Britain!
Sitting on the coach from Heathrow to Reading one glorious morning in late April, the view out of the window was reassuringly familiar, cramped towns, even more cramped roads, beautiful lush green vegetation and the Furniture Warehouse closing down sale still going strong!
Coming home this time was actually quite a nervy event; we were going back to our house for the first time in three years. Forewarned by our agents about what to expect, the reality turned out to be less of a shock.
Apart from every door and wall looking as though it had been attacked by a blind man with a 3-metre plank, the house still had a roof and external walls. Our last tenants had obviously decided to ease the rental burden by sub letting rooms to half the population of Eastern Europe, a fact confirmed by various neighbours, but it could have been worse! Another rental house in Reading was apparently used for female trafficking!
Despite some spectacular mould growth on interior walls, 2 sets of curtains chewed by a hamster (no pets allowed!), ink stains on 3 carpets, a name carved on a bookcase, damaged or ruined furniture and various items missing, our agents gave us the re-assuring news that any claims for compensation would be regarded as an attempt at "betterment".
This is a wonderful word used by estate agents and lawyers, which sums up the attitude of the authorities to Landlords, the assumption is we are on the make and the underdog tenant needs to be protected.
If I tell you the agent seriously suggested that £2 would be a reasonable compensation claim for a bedroom carpet with three orange day-glo ink stains on it you will appreciate what we are up against! Fortunately Africa has taught us, amongst many things, to put these events in to perspective so even a counter claim by our tenants for "ruined clothing" has floated over our heads.
Reading Borough Council made a good attempt to rattle us though, they require an eye watering £2,140 council tax for the forthcoming year, and unlike income tax this is payable even if you have no jobs, which we haven't!
The good news, as the council so kindly mention in the terse cover letter, is that they "managed" to peg this year's increase to a mere 4%! Phew, I'm overjoyed at their frugality with the public purse; I'd happily pay more for a fortnightly rubbish collection and a streetlight that keeps us awake at night.
The next brush with officialdom was even more rewarding, I registered for the Job Seekers Allowance, (the 'dole' as anyone not in government calls it) and duly turned up at the local 'Job Centre Plus' for my interview. The 'Plus' bit of the title was a bit of a mystery but I now realise it stands for 'Plus demeaning humiliation alongside Reading's alcoholic and drugged unwashed lowlife."
The less said about the place the better, suffice to say to official 'greeter' at the entrance to the building was flanked by two gorillas in suits. He stood behind a lectern (I suspect it was electrified in case of trouble), as though about to give the 'State of the Union' address and welcomed me with a cheery "Wotcha".
It went downhill from that moment anyway, something about right time but wrong day. My enthusiasm to debate this and re-arrange the interview was undermined by the fact that on the phone the day earlier I had been advised that I was not entitled to Jobseekers Allowance anyway as we had 'savings'. I cut my losses and felt relieved to get out of the building with all my body parts in roughly the same place.
Talking of lecterns, there has been a subtle revolution in UK high street shops since we've been abroad; lecterns have replace counters. We are now welcomed in to what appears like front lounge type sitting rooms. The bank has a sitting room; the Post Office has gone one better and has settees. The latter needs settees, as the waiting time on the 'take a number' queuing system is about 45 minutes.
I confidently anticipate that if we return to the UK in another 3 years the Post Office will offer you the choice of either an overnight stay in an en-suite bedroom or the chance to walk your mail to it's destination.
Of course the marketing/interior design experts will say that counters are barriers to the sales-client interface and that settees are part of the welcoming process to enrich the shopping experience.
That, of course, is total b*llocks! The settees are there so that, when the bill is repeated to you after your despairing cry of "how much?" you can fall backwards and faint on something comfortable!
As Gordon Brown (our Prime Minister, in case anyone reading this outside of the UK is wondering who I am talking about) might put it, things are very positive on the job and finances front at the moment, we have neither! You now require a PhD in animal physiology to get a part time vet's receptionist post and my two degrees were not enough to get an interview for a job driving a van and collecting water samples.
Anyway, I am totally mellow and chilled now, despite having my head in a paint tin for close on 6 weeks. Even the arrival of"The Mother-in-Law" for a two-week holiday (er, sorry, I meant to say two weeks helping clean the house) left me unfazed. Actually Jo, when not eating and drinking and "having a sit-down" was a great help, I remember the hour vividly!
Friends and neighbours have dropped in with food parcels and my Dad (Ralph Snr) has very kindly given us his Fiat Cinquecento. The car may be not much bigger than the ashtray in the Landrover but it is a set of wheels so we no longer have to walk to the supermarket and stagger back with the alcohol. The doctor has advised though that my arms may never return to their original length!
For a complete change of scenery Alan & Jane kindly took us to Wentworth to watch a load of overpaid men stroking their balls about (otherwise known as the BMW PGA tournament). To avoid paying we went on the Pro-Celeb warm up day. The celebrities were sadly thin on the ground but at least the crowd had a famous African explorer to admire, if only they'd realised!
Just as we were finishing the 4th bottle of wine and our picnic lunch alongside a bunker at the Par 3 third (notice the grasp of golf terminology here); the tee shot from a nameless professional landed very close. Fortunately his second shot was better, chipping our rucksacks, the picnic hamper, the bunker and sadly, the green!
At the moment we seem to be in an endless cycle of filling, sanding, buffing and pasting, but that's enough about our sex life! We have a third of the house repaired and re-painted, the bath water exits the house via the pipe rather than the ceiling and we have a plasterer coming round to re-do some inner walls, it doesn't get more exciting than this!
Now that the weather has warmed up to about half the temperature we are used to, we have opened up a couple of exploratory trails in to the back garden. I won't say it needs a bit of attention, suffice to say that I've emailed Steven Spielberg to see if he wants a location for Jurassic Park 4!
Anyway enough of this frippery and back to the roller coaster excitement of DIY. Only thing left to say is that you are all welcome to visit (well not all at once obviously). Those of you with an electrical or plumbing qualification are even more welcome!
- comments