There I was, hanging out by the bike sheds, innocently playing Virtual Pool on my new godPhone, when what should I overhear but news of the potential degradation of the dilithium crystals on this here Enterprise.
Maybe you haven't read everything that I've written. Poor fucking you. Here's the scoop: we live beside our Germanic landspeople. They own both houses and rent to us. Once we went to their gaff for dinner. The best that can be said about that evening is that it was a short walk home.
So to my overhearing, my dropping of these eaves. It was Lady Land who spoke, to some guy I don't know as he quit their house and said his goodbyes.
'I see that house is still up for sale.'
I know the one he means, four doors down, on the market since the dinosaurs roamed the Earth.
Lady keeps it simple.
'Yes, it is.'
And then Lady gets heavy, oh so very heavy.
'We're going to have to sell this one.'
You fucking what?
'Yes, inaudible mortgage inaudible.'
I don't know what the fuck she meant by inaudible, but I do know that they plan to sell our house and unless that elderly spin chick who fancies me decides to express her love with a €600,000 bag of cash instead of a sparse diet of admiring glances then they will not be selling it to us. Which is an awful pity.
It's a great road, this road we live on. We're on the deep corner of an L-shaped cul de sac. It's safe and quiet. Plenty of kids with whom The Bridge Crew can consort. I like it as much as I've liked anywhere that I've had to stay put in for more than five minutes. My roaming chilhood left me restless and unfocussed, but this place I could see myself sticking with for a while.
It's not that massive a problem. A quick check on Daft reveals that plenty of people around and about are looking for a nice family to not murder chickens in their attics, and rents, thank recession, are way down. But the moving, even a short distance, is something I just do not want to contemplate. I'm going to stop contemplating it now.
Of course, this may not happen for a long time. No one's buying, right? The place down the road is evidence of that. But we're due to sign a new lease in the coming weeks and I suspect that there'll be some procrastination on that one from our loveable Prussian masters. Either way, I'm really looking forward to being that guy who attempts to freak out potential buyers with tales of eerie noises and putrid stenches. I can supply the latter myself.