I rang the warden at Dexter House and went to have a visit on Monday morning. I was somewhat dubious, worrying unnecessary as it turned out, as it is perfect for what I need. The flat is up some steps, not actually on a floor along a corridor as I was expecting, is clean and tidy and compared to this house, in excellent condition. It has a spacious lounge, kitchen and single bedroom, with ample space for my king-sized bed (thank goodness! There is absolutely no way I'm going back to sleeping in a single bed. For a start, all my bedding is for a king sized bed. Actually, the duvet is super king sized.) There is a really pleasant community garden in the centre of the complex and it's easily accessible from the flat, so Alfie has somewhere to go for a run (but he won't be able to run in and out as he is here, but that's a minor thing.) There is a laundry room, so I don't have to bother with a washing machine and ample drying space and even an off-road car parking space, which means I don't have to leave the car parked on the road, something I was concerned about.
From viewing the flat in Dexter House, I drove to Lidl, which is a fairly short distance away along Oldbrook Boulevard, and as I was standing at the checkout, who should I see in the queue in front of me but Garry, my next-door neighbour. He said, come in and have a coffee when you get back, so, one I'd finished at the checkout and driven home, I went indoors and put the few bits of groceries away and then went next door to Garry and Shelley's. It turns out that this week Shelly is away with a group of her clients who she cares for, I think he said somewhere on the coast, the south, but I can't remember, Butlins somewhere, probably Bognor Regis. We were taking and it turns out that his son-in-law and his daughter, Jasmin, are looking for a larger home and they would very much like to move into this house when I leave, as they want a three-bedroom house and this would be perfect. Garry gave me their mobile numbers and Joe came round later, the intention being that I ring our Landlord and I tell him that I want to hand in my notice, which I did, and I was going to pass him the phone and Joe could discuss the matter of him taking over the tenancy and doing a renovation job on the house before they moved in. But Mr Singh, the landlord, said he'd rather meet him face-to-face and discuss the process of them transferring the tenancy and so on and so forth. He said he'd come back at 7.15 which he did, along with his wife. As usual, no interest at all in them doing anything to improve the house, just concerned that the rent is paid and saying that we had been good tenants. I said that it was impossible for me to continue paying the rent, and that I had a flat to move too. Mr Singh's wife looking about, as usual, and making sly comments when she saw the condition of the place, things that they were really responsible for, for example, the fact that there's a damp patch on the wall below the bathroom in the hallway, where water has seeped through when we had had a shower. Just bad grouting along the edge probably. Anyway, whenever they've come, usually once a year and for barely 10 minutes, all we usually got was 'have you cut the grass?' which I have had done and actually the 'lawn' (for want of a better name for the tatty patch of grass at the back of the house) is reasonably short at the moment and will get a final cut on Friday when Phil and his son comes back. Thankfully, at the new flat, I won't have that to bother with anymore.
Mr Singh wanted to come back yesterday evening (Tuesday) with his son, as he has an interest in the house, to discuss with Joe about him taking over the house. I went to Camphill yesterday as usual (can't believe I've been going there for near enough 6 months. I will discuss this in another blog post.) but no sign of them arriving here at 7 o'clock as arranged. I didn't really mind, because I was thoroughly worn out by the time I had finished at Camphill and went to bed around 8 o'clock when they never turned up, although it would have been nice to have been told they weren't. I rang Joe this morning when I was out with Alfie in Eaglestone Park and he said that they never came because Mr Singh's son couldn't make it and they should come on either Thursday or Friday evening.
From viewing the flat in Dexter House, I drove to Lidl, which is a fairly short distance away along Oldbrook Boulevard, and as I was standing at the checkout, who should I see in the queue in front of me but Garry, my next-door neighbour. He said, come in and have a coffee when you get back, so, one I'd finished at the checkout and driven home, I went indoors and put the few bits of groceries away and then went next door to Garry and Shelley's. It turns out that this week Shelly is away with a group of her clients who she cares for, I think he said somewhere on the coast, the south, but I can't remember, Butlins somewhere, probably Bognor Regis. We were taking and it turns out that his son-in-law and his daughter, Jasmin, are looking for a larger home and they would very much like to move into this house when I leave, as they want a three-bedroom house and this would be perfect. Garry gave me their mobile numbers and Joe came round later, the intention being that I ring our Landlord and I tell him that I want to hand in my notice, which I did, and I was going to pass him the phone and Joe could discuss the matter of him taking over the tenancy and doing a renovation job on the house before they moved in. But Mr Singh, the landlord, said he'd rather meet him face-to-face and discuss the process of them transferring the tenancy and so on and so forth. He said he'd come back at 7.15 which he did, along with his wife. As usual, no interest at all in them doing anything to improve the house, just concerned that the rent is paid and saying that we had been good tenants. I said that it was impossible for me to continue paying the rent, and that I had a flat to move too. Mr Singh's wife looking about, as usual, and making sly comments when she saw the condition of the place, things that they were really responsible for, for example, the fact that there's a damp patch on the wall below the bathroom in the hallway, where water has seeped through when we had had a shower. Just bad grouting along the edge probably. Anyway, whenever they've come, usually once a year and for barely 10 minutes, all we usually got was 'have you cut the grass?' which I have had done and actually the 'lawn' (for want of a better name for the tatty patch of grass at the back of the house) is reasonably short at the moment and will get a final cut on Friday when Phil and his son comes back. Thankfully, at the new flat, I won't have that to bother with anymore.
Mr Singh wanted to come back yesterday evening (Tuesday) with his son, as he has an interest in the house, to discuss with Joe about him taking over the house. I went to Camphill yesterday as usual (can't believe I've been going there for near enough 6 months. I will discuss this in another blog post.) but no sign of them arriving here at 7 o'clock as arranged. I didn't really mind, because I was thoroughly worn out by the time I had finished at Camphill and went to bed around 8 o'clock when they never turned up, although it would have been nice to have been told they weren't. I rang Joe this morning when I was out with Alfie in Eaglestone Park and he said that they never came because Mr Singh's son couldn't make it and they should come on either Thursday or Friday evening.
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