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The build up to leaving was becoming a weighty cloud
above us, particularly as we had still not exchanged contracts on the sale
of our flat. We couldn’t afford the mortgages of our Poole flat, the Bognor
flat and Cencerrita for very long. Although our newly married, would-be
purchasers desperately wanted to move in, and we desperately wanted to move
out, the solicitors were busy proving that their exorbitant fees were
justified. A cynical thought, but as solicitors and their ilk are involved
in the process, could this be why the English conveyancing system has never
been changed to make the whole business of buying and selling property less
traumatic? The final straw came on our return from a weekend at Mum and
Dad’s. Nightmare post was awaiting us … a huge 40 page questionnaire arrived
from our purchasers’ solicitors, plus contract … Most of the questions had
already been sorted – and we had thought we were maybe just a week away from
exchanging. We were up until the small hours of the morning answering all
the questions. The various comments we made are not for publication … !
We were also having many problems with the flat we rented
out in Bognor Regis. We seemed to have a steady stream of unsuitable
tenants varying from one student who decided growing marijuana in the
wardrobe was a great idea, to the young man who decided that he didn’t need
to pay us rent and there would be no problem if he had his girlfriend and
her children stay most of the time in the tiny single room … we decided
being landlords was not an easy task. There had been an inspection carried
out by the local council of this row of converted Victorian houses and their
findings indicated the flats would need substantial “improvements” – we
still had not received the inspector’s report and the impending disaster
also hung over us. The money required for the structural replacements would
not be easy to find. After less than a year in Spain we decided to sell the
flat as no management company would take it on, and the never ending stream
of problems became insurmountable: from being struck by lightening in the
early hours of the morning to the bathroom from the above flat falling in!
We felt we were just treading water. Waiting. I am not a
depressive type, but I was beginning to feel very low. Alan, realising I
needed cheering up, kindly offered some retail therapy … this resulted in
the purchase of 7 doors and 4 ceiling fans from B&Q. Naturally I tried to
explain to Alan what Retail therapy should really be, but he is a hopeless
cause … don’t tell Alan, but the doors are really nice and did lighten my
mood somewhat!
To lift the depression
completely, on Monday 30th June Alan resigned at work. We’d been
waiting for the flat to sell, but over the weekend we took not one, but TWO
phone call bookings – one of them for 7 weeks in October and November. We
decided this must be a sign and we’d better take advantage of it! No one at
his work believed that he hadn’t known on the Friday that he was going to
resign on the Monday – it was rather funny hearing the astonishment he
caused. My boss already knew I was leaving at some point in the summer, so
my resignation made much less of an impact.
Aghhhhhhh – Panic mode now! We had to leave within the
month. Flat sold or not. Nothing was even remotely ready in Spain … nor
remotely ready in Poole either. But we had our first booking starting on 17th
October – this year.
My daughter, Marie, arrived for her birthday break at
this time and found not, only us in shock, but also the flat. Chaos reigned
supreme: she couldn’t even find the toilet in the family bathroom – totally
obscured by boxes – more retail therapy! Moving round the flat was a
virtually impossible task – the extra 7 doors don’t help …
A bottle of wine, Spanish of course, was
opened in celebration … or was it a hopeless attempt to soothe our
threadbare nerves? But you know what – the exhilaration felt pretty damn
fine! Our new lives were about to really start. Now we actually had some
dates to work to, a frenzy of activity was unleashed as preparations took on
a whole new dimension
Several “essential” purchases we made, put the 7 doors in
the shade. My favourite was the part-exchange of my sensible Nissan Micra
for a gunmetal grey Suzuki Vitara. We had looked at buying 4x4 a few times,
but there were all rather expensive – or very old. However, this J
registered Vitara looked like it would last a while, and with the trade in,
became affordable. Alan had always thought of them of rather “poser-ish”
cars, but at least it was small enough to handle easily, yet big enough to
do the jobs that we would need it to – we hoped. Buying a new car so soon
before we left might not have been the best idea as there were one or two
small problems. The Spanish insurance policy we had taken out for the Micra
was exchanged easily enough – however it turns out that you are unable to
have comprehensive insurance on cars over 10 years old in Spain, not even
fire and theft, just third party. There was also the fact that you are
required to have the log book in your name when travelling in Europe and
this of course, had been sent by the dealer to Swansea. We had a photocopy
and tightly crossed fingers.
 Another
important purchase was that of a double axle trailer. If the tracks
couldn’t allow lorries up to Cencerrita, we needed a strong trailer to carry
all the building materials up and down the mountain. Having searched most
of Europe on the internet, Alan eventually tracked a suitable one down less
than 5 miles away from where we were living. Things were going well now. On
the other hand, now Alan had a trailer, he could buy even more things to
take with us, even though we could not possibly store anything else in the
flat. Not problem! Alan decided my place of work would do very nicely as
I had such a nice, understanding boss ...
D-Day -9
It was now Friday 25th July, with our
departure date from ol’ Blighty set for Sunday 3rd August and the
flat purchasers due to move into the flat on Tuesday 29th
(although contracts had still not been exchanged), we decided we
would pack all our things into a Lock Up Storage and go and live on a
caravan site for the week, that way there should be no last minute panics.
Best laid plans .... the post brought yet another questionnaire from the
purchaser’s solicitors – all things that we understood had been sorted. I
was so upset. I’d already finished work the day before and was happily busy
packing everything into boxes When I opened this letter, I rang Alan and
sobbed the latest news into the phone. Alan went into action. This tornado
of energy arrived home early from work and determinedly set about doing the
solicitors’ jobs for them. He spent the afternoon on the phone to just
about everybody concerned, sent faxes here, there and everywhere and it
seemed afterwards that, although we clearly wouldn’t be able to exchange
before we left, our solicitor would be able to take care of the rest of it.
D-Day -8
The next day we had to put the flat sale out of minds and
concentrate on the lock up place we had booked. Under normal circumstances
this probably wouldn’t have been too bad, but as Alan had bought the entire
stock of all DIY shops in a ten mile radius (not to mention those 7 doors!),
this was extremely hard work – luckily only down one flight of steps.
Fortunately a colleague (er, ex-colleague now!) of mine came to help, as did
Alan’s youngest son, Matt. Between us all, and the wonderful trailer, we
were finished by mid-afternoon. It would have helped if the rain had kept
off … but hey, it was a none too gentle reminder of one of the reasons we
were deserting the UK!
D-Day -7
You would think after the tumult of all that, we would
have sat and relaxed a little … no! Alan still had things to buy … We
bought a shed (yes, a full sized 8 x 4, flat packed shed), a garden table
and chairs set that was on sale and proved to be irresistible and … well,
you get the idea. We had a 40 sqm storage room with the same amount on the
lorry - and boy, did Alan intend to get his money’s worth. He filled the
room and lorry till they fair burst at the seams! Did I mentioned the 4
sets of double glazed French doors that I’d stored at my work as there was
nowhere else? Yes, those were coming too.
D-Day -6
While Alan was at work on the Monday I gave the flat a
good cleaning, for the last time ever, On his return home in the evening, we
packed our last few things and finally moved out the flat, in the dark and
pouring rain, and drove the loaded caravan to the park where we would be
spending our last week in the UK. As the removal company had promised to
bring our worldly goods down in about a fortnight’s time, we opted for
travelling very light … we knew the caravan had one or two hills to go up
and down … This was the first time Alan had towed a caravan. This trip
would certainly throw him in at the deep end, but his extensive driving
experience would serve him well, as would the familiar Renault Laguna.
As our buyers were still not allowed to move in as
contracts had not been exchanged, I left my tropical fish there to be
collected at the last moment. I think if I had known the fate that lay
ahead for them, I would have preferred to have given them away instead.
With no electricity in our new Spanish home to run the filter and pump
oxygen plus the excessive temperatures, even for hot for tropical fish, most
died before the year was out.
Still nothing from the solicitors …
That week was spent in a flurry of farewells – I didn’t
cook one meal in the caravan, friends had invited us out every evening. In
one way it was sad to being saying goodbye, but we were so excited about our
new lives, nothing could bring me down from my high – apart from the
wretched sale of the flat.
D-Day -2
Well! Can you believe it?! I had just popped back to
the flat to pack up the fish in their travel tank (a swing bin) ready for
the next day’s departure to Portsmouth when the phone rang … the phone
company were meant to have disconnected the line on the previous Tuesday.
Irritated, I picked up the phone and announced my name. It was my Solicitor
… “I have your purchasers’ solicitor on my other line … do you wish to
exchange contracts?” I felt like Sally in the restaurant – you know that
clip? “Yes, yeeeees, YESSSSSSSSS!!” The solicitor’s dry and indifferent
voice confirmed that exchange of contracts was now taking place and he would
forward all the completed paperwork to our Spanish address.
The relief was tremendous. A floating feeling came over
me … before the tears hit! The idea of not exchanging before we left had
been very frightening. We would have been paying - or rather trying to pay
- three mortgages with no income, not to mention no money to spend on
renovating Cencerrita. Relief and shock, combined with exhaustion meant that
instead of celebrating, we collapsed in the caravan bed early that night and
slept soundly through till the morning.
D-Day -1
Didn’t get up early this morning as all we had to do was
take the caravan to Portsmouth, our departure point, and pop over to Bognor
Regis to say a rather tearful goodbye to Marie. Knowing no one on the
caravan site, our cavalcade moved out un-feted onto the road for its long
journey to Southern Spain. I smiled broadly as tears ran down my face.
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