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Life For Rent
Jun. 9th, 2012 10:24 pmWent up to MK to take a look at a room being rented by one of the staff at my soon-to-be workplace. It's a nice place, in a pleasant suburb of town with a nice little group of shops and take-aways and a pub, and the landlord and his family are a friendly bunch; there's just one hiccup. My contact lady had rung me at work on Thursday afternoon to let me know about the room, and I'd spoken to the landlord just after. He had said then that another guy had been showing interest in the room for months but not made a definite offer.
On Thursday night, though, the other guy got back in touch with the landlord, who feels that he has to give him first option on the place. The landlord's given him until tomorrow night, so is going to phone me then to say whether I've got the room or not.
The landlord said he'd tried to ring me yesterday to warn me, but wasn't able to get through. It turned out that when I'd called him on his mobile Thursday, the call had shown on his phone as coming from our office main switchboard rather than my extension, so he'd spent Friday fruitlessly ringing the office switchboard. As he, his wife and I had a quick chat over a glass of apple and blackcurrant, he asked if I was seeing any more rooms today; I said no. He'd had the impression that I'd be spending the whole day in MK looking at half a dozen rooms.
He promised to ring tomorrow evening but not during the Ireland v Croatia match, and gave me a lift back to MK station.
Arrived home at half-time of Netherlands v Denmark. Second half dull. I'd been looking forward to Germany v Portugal, having heard about the Germans' new attractive style of play, but that wasn't a classic either though it came to life once Gomez scored for Germany - which drew a cheer from me. A few minutes earlier, I'd started wanting the Germans to win after Meireles slapped Badstuber in the face, then conned the ref by putting an arm around Badstuber and pretending to help him up and give him a friendly pat on the cheek. Naughty.
On Thursday night, though, the other guy got back in touch with the landlord, who feels that he has to give him first option on the place. The landlord's given him until tomorrow night, so is going to phone me then to say whether I've got the room or not.
The landlord said he'd tried to ring me yesterday to warn me, but wasn't able to get through. It turned out that when I'd called him on his mobile Thursday, the call had shown on his phone as coming from our office main switchboard rather than my extension, so he'd spent Friday fruitlessly ringing the office switchboard. As he, his wife and I had a quick chat over a glass of apple and blackcurrant, he asked if I was seeing any more rooms today; I said no. He'd had the impression that I'd be spending the whole day in MK looking at half a dozen rooms.
He promised to ring tomorrow evening but not during the Ireland v Croatia match, and gave me a lift back to MK station.
Arrived home at half-time of Netherlands v Denmark. Second half dull. I'd been looking forward to Germany v Portugal, having heard about the Germans' new attractive style of play, but that wasn't a classic either though it came to life once Gomez scored for Germany - which drew a cheer from me. A few minutes earlier, I'd started wanting the Germans to win after Meireles slapped Badstuber in the face, then conned the ref by putting an arm around Badstuber and pretending to help him up and give him a friendly pat on the cheek. Naughty.
