Open Writing

We weren't out of the woods yet – assuming that our offer won, there would be less than two days for us to arrange the FX contract, submit a copy of it to the bank, and for the bank to deliberate, approve the loan AND release the cash. But, at least we had got approval in principle, which was the bullet we needed to get in our best offer.

Meanwhile, back at the O.K. Corral, holsters were being hitched on hips ready for the gun-fight. Murray and ourselves were in one room, and the opposition in another. As the clock ticked remorselessly to the deadline – sadly, not High Noon but a rather more routine five o'clock – two best offers were frantically being finalised. We had eliminated every extant condition, but had had to insert one. This was our bullet, because it was a simple condition just to cover us for the bank being late with the loan – which is as near as dammit a “standard”. Reluctantly, because we didn’t have that much elbow room for such profligacies, but bowing to a number of sensible and logical arguments, we also upped our bid by a bit.

The next couple of days were agony. It wasn't just the waiting, it was waiting in an atmosphere of sudden, enforced inactivity. We felt as though someone had been spinning us around, and then stopped us dead, leaving us dizzy and disoriented. All we could do was sit and nibble our fingernails while the World whirled giddily around us. Our confidence gradually wilted and waned. Then, the 'phone rang. It was Murray: We held our breath. "Congratulations, ..." Dizziness displayed a different hue – a right royal knees-up of disbelief and elation striking sparks off one another.

But, we were not yet home and dry. Soon we resumed our anxious waiting – this time for our UK house sale to be completed. Fortunately, at least now we had something more than diminishing fingernails to occupy us. Barring an outright disaster, we had a house. However, apart from what we'd squeezed into the confines of the airline's miserly luggage allowance, we had nothing to put in it – virtually all of our possessions were in a container somewhere between the two antipodes.

Pam and Hazel started beavering away on a list of the "essentials" we would need, to tide us over until our boat came in. Penetrating the minutiae of a household inventory, this list was largely drawn up by doing a "stock-taking" of Hazel and Mike's house, and subsequently divided into two categories. Firstly came the things we simply didn't have at all, and which we needed to buy no later than at our earliest convenience. Secondly came the things that were in transit and for which we ideally needed temporary substitutes.

Hazel mobilised her resources once again, lining up offers from colleagues, friends and (Mike's) family. That left two lists – a list of "borrowables" and a list of "duplicatables". This latter was the awkward one: for each item, we had to decide whether we COULD manage without it, or whether we'd have to spend money "unnecessarily". Hence, for example, when our container arrived we would end end up with TWO electric irons. Pam saw this as unavoidable, whilst Hazel – to put it mildly – didn't! We busied ourselves with chasing round, pricing up the items that we'd have to buy. Of course, we couldn't be so rash as to BUY anything, not until we'd actually revoked our status as homeless itinerants.

Receiving the glad tidings that the sale was completed triggered not elation but a campaign planned with military precision. It had to be thus – our schedule was tighter than a Victorian corset. We had two strategic objectives: firstly to get the bank loan facility activated (otherwise the house would be forfeit), and secondly to get the balance of funds transferred as quickly as possible (otherwise we’d pay more interest).

The status of our UK current account was monitored minutely. The instant the uncleared funds appeared, figures were slammed into a spreadsheet which promptly told us exactly how much needed to go where. The moment that the funds became cleared, I was straight on the blower to strike a FX contract – fortuitously, and for once, at a pretty FAVOURABLE exchange rate! – for that formerly indeterminate balance. A copy of the contract was printed, completing the package of “proof” required by the bank. We took two things: no chances and the package to the bank where we placed it into the hands of our chappie.

Our UK guerrilla forces (i.e. our best friends) were mobilised to shift the money from our bank to the FX company's trust account (time zone differences made all such activities doubly entertaining). Our lawyer, who played his part throughout with a commendably unflappable efficiency that certainly impressed me, was primed to execute the settlement. There was more anxiety, waiting for the bank to confirm the loan facility – then, the moment it came through (and, thankfully, this time they were right on the ball), there was general rejoicing. Moments later, we were shunting the necessary readies through to the lawyer's trust account.

Now we could set about actualising that list of potential purchases. Hazel had recommended that we use Harvey Norman's for the bulk of it, because if you bought a whole pile of stuff, they were prepared to be (shall we say?) "flexible" about their retail prices. And so, to our utter amazement, it proved. What we wanted included dining furniture, a washing machine and tumble dryer, a fridge/freezer, a vacuum cleaner, an ironing board, a microwave oven, a telephone and – to get to the REAL essentials! – a television, a TV stand, and a HDD/DVD recorder. We were escorted around by knowledgeable staff, guided through our selections, and got a damned good deal – and Pam, in passing, at long last achieved one of her minor ambitions, by becoming the proud owner of a Bosch washing machine.

Somewhere along the line we sorted out routine things like the electricity, telephone line and broadband. "Sorted out" is a euphemism: we thought we had them in hand but, with that inevitability to which we were becoming accustomed, complications set in later on! Nevertheless, in spite of numerous irritations – like ISP connections that got all snotty-nosed at entirely the WORST moments – things were really humming! You might have expected that the day we completed all our preparations, the humming would have died down. No chance – the next morning was Settlement Day, and we were busy moving in.