Moving house

Well, my theme today is moving house. Mrs C and I went up to Leeds
last Saturday to help our youngest daughter move house across the
road. Soph had befriended a couple of women living on the street
(who threw a street party some months ago). When their lodger
moved out, they invited her to replace him. The house is one of
those lovely tall red-brick Victorian / Edwardian semis, which has
been well looked after by the two owners, V and A.

The three of us spent about three hours moving Soph’s stuff across
… down two flights of stairs from her bed-sit, across the road and
up another flight of stairs. Fortunately, Soph didn’t have any
heavy furniture to move, apart from two desks. After cleaning up
the bed-sit (most of which Soph had cleaned already), we drove 10
-15 miles or so across to the other side of Bradford (to drop the
keys off at a new letting agent). The latter have been nasty
towards Soph, so I took loads of photos of the bed-sit before we
left, just in case they were to make out that Soph left the place
in a tip (and refuse to pay back her deposit money).

V and A are a very friendly couple, and were very welcoming (and
made us all some cheese and pickle sandwiches plus mugs of tea).

And then last week, our eldest daughter (her pet name is Emlor)
told us the good news that she and her new fella are going to
live together, and that they’re hoping to find somewhere better
to live than their present housing. They’re hoping to rent a
modest 3 bed semi in the Beeston area of Nottingham (which is on
the west side of the city, not far from the M1). Rents here are
not too bad … they’re hoping to pay around £500 a month for a
house (with a garden and a garage), and thereby save £300 a
month on living separately… with further savings on council tax,
and fuel bills, etc..

Currently Em lives in a small cottage on a large countryside
estate in South Notts --- the house was built in the mid 1500s,
has no damp course and recently Em has discovered that the roof
is leaking also. Consequently the house is very damp and most of
her clothes, shoes, books and other possessions have become a
lovely light green colour – green with mould. No doubt very
fashionable in Robin Hood’s time. What was initially an idyllic
cottage has become the complete opposite – a hovel that should be
condemned.

Em has been round at our house once or twice a week, to see us
and to check her emails, and to bring her washing (for us to do).
In the past week, Emily has been doing some online searching for
a suitable property to rent, and we’ve have been amused by the
outrageous descriptions that the estate agents have used to
advertise their properties, and the neighbourhoods that they're
in. Em went to see one of them described as having a “good
garden”, which turned out to be a small patch of land covered in
thistle, bramble and other weeds. You’ll be familiar with
stories like this, no doubt. I’m amazed that agents don’t get
taken to court for misrepresentation, but they usually have
get-out clauses in the small print of their advertising. The
words, money and old rope spring to my mind.