I couldn’t find my glasses this morning. I looked everywhere. Most mornings I check my email, blip account and blog in case there’s anything I need to read. When I do this, I generally plonk my glasses down on the desk beside the keyboard. They weren’t there. I was a bit desperate because we were due a viewing of the house and I had some one handed tidying to do.
I think I managed to get the house looking presentable, although the back garden makes me despair. Trouble is, you can’t mow a lawn with one hand. OK, you can if you’re an idiot (I remember seeing a chap mowing a beer garden a while ago with the safety bar tied off with an elastic strap) but, realistically, who wants to risk more injury? I felt like putting up a little sign that explained about my wrist but it felt a bit Basil Fawlty and, besides, I couldn’t make a sign and tidy the house. I trusted the realo to tell them.
Of course, as the time approached, I took the girls up to the park and we went for a nice long walk. I figured I’d given them enough time and returned, only to find a car parked across our drive. Now, I don’t know if this was an intentional signal but it worked brilliantly as one. Because I can see the front of the house from the park entrance, it was just a matter of going for a second walk.
Eventually we returned to find the car was still there! We went and sat on the bench near the Dell where I took this photo of Day-z (she was a bit aggrieved because there’s been a spate of Carmen posts lately).
After a wait of about ten minutes during which we chatted to a couple of cockerpoos, we returned to the park entrance to find the car was still there. But, this time, there was movement, a very loud voice and a guy in a wheelchair impatient to leave.
My first thought was that our house is about as wheelchair friendly as a climbing frame. I also wondered how he managed to get in. I then heard the loud voice.
I only heard a couple of phrases but I’m fairly certain she wasn’t that keen. Her first comment was “I have to be honest…” and her second was “I really like the garden…”
The second of these phrases held an almost over heard ‘but’ as in “I really like the garden but the house is terrible.” From her tone, the first comment was probably “I have to be honest, this is the smallest house in the world and totally unsuitable for a wheelchair.”
Anyway, they left soon after and I returned to a rather late lunch.
Oh, I almost forgot…my glasses were on my head. I realised it when I looked in the mirror.