Feast of Fools

...although admittedly you may have tried.

On Saturday we got up at the crack of dawn to be in Surrey Quays by 8.45 (it's NOT CIVILISED, on a weekend, no it's not O.o) to see the Big 'Un. And lo, it was still spacious and pleasant and had everything the little one didn't, including bloody great second bedroom, two door-size living room windows facing south *and* a river view to the north from the bedroom.

To my astonishment, dad didn't actually manage to find anything wrong with it at all despite poking around in the fuse box, running the water, knocking on the walls and generally making a nuisance of himself (what the hell would I do without him, I can't do this stuff...)

That was all done at 9.30, and the viewing of the little 'un I fell in love with wasn't till 2pm, so we trundled down to Greenwich and went on a boat to the Tower and back, just to have a look at the competing river views from the other side. Were most amused by the tourist commentaries which insisted that the big whitewash E on the side of the warehouse by the Captain Kidd pub is there to mark Execution Dock. Cue my father grinding his teeth ("it's shed E! As opposed to A, B, C and D!"). On the other hand, if they can seriously convince the tourists that an industrial-looking white-painted E has been there since sixteen-oh-something then good luck to them. ^_^

And then we girded our loins and went to see the little one. And lo, dad did a hatchet job. 'Tis funny, but the first time I went around it I didn't notice the scratches on the floor, nor the dreadful paintwork, nor the extreme rubbishness of the kitchen finish. Didn't pick up that the light switches didn't work properly. Didn't try running the cold tap in the bathroom - no water from the tap, but a distinctly worrying trickling noise somewhere behind the plaster.

At least I don't feel so bad about not making an offer for it now. And it *was* rotten dark in there.

*sigh* So I rang up yesterday and made an offer for the big flat. And now we wait. And stress. *edges away quietly in search of sacrificial farm animals*