London buses
Time to focus on selling my property in France. No excuses this time. None of those internal mental conversations with yourself saying “the market is bad, no one is buying.”
No, action is my middle name, so I look at the Easyjet flight roster to see times and costs, ready to travel down for a few days in September.
Now life is amazing. I have not heard from any of those useless lazy French estate agents in months. Not even a quick e-mail to say “hi, we still have your details here on file and are doing what we can.” No, in France, no communication is good communication.
So there I am in my car and the mobile rings. I recognise the +33 number so assume it is some person chasing for cash of some description. (Subconsciously I have associated people calling from France as problems – very negative I do respect.)
Leo, the local agent has someone who would like to visit my villa tomorrow. Fantastic! Not more than ten minutes later I have another agent on the phone, this time telling me another couple wish to see the villa next week.
And to top this off, not word of a lie, I received an e-mail from someone yesterday who is expressing an interest.
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