Howdy.
So, the posts are coming in thick and fast now. Two in as many days. Prolific is a word you may not be able to use yet but soon.
This post is entitled Moving House = Pain in the derrier. Never has a truer phrase be written down, at least in my experience anyway. Catherine, Fred and I currently live in a masionette in Potters Bar. It's a lovely flat (apart from the afore-mentioned floorboards obviously), and for a childless couple, it is a dream. Quiet road, two double bedrooms, massive lounge, equally massive kitchen, a modern bathroom with enough room to swing a cat and a triply massive garden with a patio, lawn, and most importantly 2 sheds, one of which I have sound-proofed to act as my music studio. Never has a masionette been more appealing. Add to that, that we are a 7 minute walk (I've timed it) to the train station that takes you right in to Moorgate or Kings Cross and a plethora of shops including a medium sized Sainsbury's next to the train station and you have a pretty much ideal place to live.
We put the flat on the market in June 2011 and by July 2011 we had a perfect buyer or so it seemed. A single lady with no house to sell herself, no need for a mortgage and wanting to move as soon as possible. Too good to be true. How true that term sounds today. We are on the brink of 2012, six months after we accepted her offer (she offered about 5 times before we let her have the property for a very reasonable price I might add) and we are no nearer to moving out. The property that we fell in love with has now been put back on the market and the estate agent that was dealing with our sale has gone on holiday without having the courtesy to tell us, even though she said that she would let us know the outcome of latest talks last night at 5pm.
What's the issue?
The buyer instructed a surveyor who gave her a report asking her to check out a couple of things. The buyer contacted us to ask if we would contribute to the cost of the work people who would check out what work the survey found might be required. We said we'd contribute to the cost of any repairs within reason. If the work turned out to be on a grand scale, we'd need to discuss the matter further. Workmen came and went. No quote. We contacted the estate agent. Where's the quote? They said they'd tried to contact the buyer but she wasn't returning their calls. The buyer finally returned their call two weeks after the builders had been round to say that she hadn't received a quote and couldn't get in touch with the builders and wanted to send round more builders for a different quote. The estate agents offered their recommended builders to give her a quote which would be returned the next day but she refused saying that she wanted to choose her own builders. This happened three times! With three sets of builders coming round and apparently not giving her the quotes. Does this really happen?
She finally received a quote which was pathetic. I wouldn't get out of bed to do the work for the money so we agreed to pay half the amount on completion of the sale. We agreed with the buyer that we would exchange contracts by the second week of December and complete in the new year.
All was swimming along until last Friday when our estate agents called us to inform us that the buyer was now putting the purchase on hold till after Christmas as her mortgage offer had expired. This is the mortgage that wasn't required. This was the mortgage that she didn't require so that we'd sell to her quickly with no fuss at a decent price. To say we were frustrated (I could type more expressive words but let's keep it clean hey?) is an understatement. Our estate agents advised us to put the house back on the market which we did only to find out that by doing so, the house that we had found and had an offer accepted and were looking forward to moving in to in the new year, found out about our reluctant buyer and was placed back on the market.
So not only do we have a will she or won't she buyer but we are probably going to miss out on the house we could really see as being out family home for the next five years or so.
I am not happy.
Conclusion - Moving house = pain in the derrier
Wednesday 21 December 2011
Tuesday 20 December 2011
Post Number 2! Babies, Christmas & the Mythical State of Sleep
Ok, I'll admit I'm not very good about frequent blogging. I keep meaning to update the blog, write new posts but to be honest I really don't have a lot of time available... which is good right? My little boy Fred, is now 1 year old and he just takes up so much time that as soon as I get in from work, we have to play, get him fed, bath him, get him ready for bed and then begin the 12 hour struggle of getting him to sleep and to stay asleep. Catherine and I also have to fit in, our own dinner, cleaning, a wee bit of conversation between ourselves and of course the Holy Grail when you have a child, sleep for ourselves. There is just no time for blogging.
Sleep is a commodity that we just don't get enough of these days. Fred, bless his little pampers will just not sleep through the night. He used to. He used to have his bath, then have a bottle and then smile at me as I laid him down in the cot, close his eyes and sleep through to 6.30am or even 7am. Bliss. It was not to last however. About 3 months ago, Fred would start waking up 3 or 4 times a night. He'd only go to sleep if he had a bottle and so he was drinking an obscene amount of milk. We were getting worried that we were creating a milky, obese baby! After his bottle, he'd need constant rocking whilst he fell asleep in our arms before finally allowing us to lay him down in the cot and creep out of his room.
This was not good. Especially, when in our care free, no child days, we had taken up all the carpets in the flat and sanded all the floor boards. It looks very nice but if anything is going to wake up your child, it's not the cars passing outside his window, nor the Rotary Club making their annual Christmas run up our street with Christmas carols blasting out and Santa screaming out "Ho ho ho, Merry Christmas!" at 8.30 in the evening. No. What will wake up your child and get him standing up in his cot looking at you as if to say,
"Where do you think you're going?" is a creaky bloody floor board. I despise floor boards now and frequently swear at them. Sometimes not even in my own house. So I turn around and follow his silent (or crying baby talk) language. "Come over here... that's it. Now pick me up and rock me to sleep again. You woke me up standing on that floor board and now you have to pay the consequences. We may be here for some time daddy. I'm just warning you. Sleep doesn't exist in your world any more. Get over it."
And it's true. Sleep, or at least my previous view of sleep has gone. It will not return again until Fred and any siblings we give him are in their teens when they'll want as much sleep as we do. It's quite scary to think that I won't get a prolonged stretch of sleep again until I'm in my fifties!
Anyway, we started trying to teach Fred to settle himself in to sleep rather than have a bottle or be rocked until we drop. We've had to change his night time routine a bit by giving him his bath and his bottle in a different sequence, having ten minutes in his room just pottering about before we put him in his cot. Hopefully this will disassociate his view of sleep in needing a bottle of milk and being rocked before he'll contemplate sleeping. It's only been a few nights now but he's already stopped wanting the milk every time he wakes up and we're nearly there with the rocking. We're putting him in his cot and reading to him until he falls asleep through tiredness or boredom. It's dare I say it, quite enjoyable (for a while). We're reading him one of the many Winnie the Pooh books that Catherine has retained from her childhood. Their great books and I enjoy reading them to Fred, doing the voices of Pooh, Piglet et all.
Before I sign off, it's now 20th December so nearly time for Christmas. I love Christmas. I also guessing every Christmas from now on will also get more exciting year by year with Fred getting older and older. He obviously doesn't know anything about Christmas and when we put his presents in front of him, he'll either smile and then attack another cupboard or drawer, or he rip the paper off, discard the present and continue to devour the ripped off paper. He does love paper.
Ok, that's it for this second post. I'll try to post again but if I don't manage it till after Christmas, I wish everyone who reads this post, indeed everyone on the planet a very merry Christmas. God bless each and every one of you and peace to all beings on earth. x
Sleep is a commodity that we just don't get enough of these days. Fred, bless his little pampers will just not sleep through the night. He used to. He used to have his bath, then have a bottle and then smile at me as I laid him down in the cot, close his eyes and sleep through to 6.30am or even 7am. Bliss. It was not to last however. About 3 months ago, Fred would start waking up 3 or 4 times a night. He'd only go to sleep if he had a bottle and so he was drinking an obscene amount of milk. We were getting worried that we were creating a milky, obese baby! After his bottle, he'd need constant rocking whilst he fell asleep in our arms before finally allowing us to lay him down in the cot and creep out of his room.
This was not good. Especially, when in our care free, no child days, we had taken up all the carpets in the flat and sanded all the floor boards. It looks very nice but if anything is going to wake up your child, it's not the cars passing outside his window, nor the Rotary Club making their annual Christmas run up our street with Christmas carols blasting out and Santa screaming out "Ho ho ho, Merry Christmas!" at 8.30 in the evening. No. What will wake up your child and get him standing up in his cot looking at you as if to say,
"Where do you think you're going?" is a creaky bloody floor board. I despise floor boards now and frequently swear at them. Sometimes not even in my own house. So I turn around and follow his silent (or crying baby talk) language. "Come over here... that's it. Now pick me up and rock me to sleep again. You woke me up standing on that floor board and now you have to pay the consequences. We may be here for some time daddy. I'm just warning you. Sleep doesn't exist in your world any more. Get over it."
And it's true. Sleep, or at least my previous view of sleep has gone. It will not return again until Fred and any siblings we give him are in their teens when they'll want as much sleep as we do. It's quite scary to think that I won't get a prolonged stretch of sleep again until I'm in my fifties!
Anyway, we started trying to teach Fred to settle himself in to sleep rather than have a bottle or be rocked until we drop. We've had to change his night time routine a bit by giving him his bath and his bottle in a different sequence, having ten minutes in his room just pottering about before we put him in his cot. Hopefully this will disassociate his view of sleep in needing a bottle of milk and being rocked before he'll contemplate sleeping. It's only been a few nights now but he's already stopped wanting the milk every time he wakes up and we're nearly there with the rocking. We're putting him in his cot and reading to him until he falls asleep through tiredness or boredom. It's dare I say it, quite enjoyable (for a while). We're reading him one of the many Winnie the Pooh books that Catherine has retained from her childhood. Their great books and I enjoy reading them to Fred, doing the voices of Pooh, Piglet et all.
Before I sign off, it's now 20th December so nearly time for Christmas. I love Christmas. I also guessing every Christmas from now on will also get more exciting year by year with Fred getting older and older. He obviously doesn't know anything about Christmas and when we put his presents in front of him, he'll either smile and then attack another cupboard or drawer, or he rip the paper off, discard the present and continue to devour the ripped off paper. He does love paper.
Ok, that's it for this second post. I'll try to post again but if I don't manage it till after Christmas, I wish everyone who reads this post, indeed everyone on the planet a very merry Christmas. God bless each and every one of you and peace to all beings on earth. x
Monday 7 November 2011
A short introduction to me, your own friendly neighbourhood bloggerfant
Hello, bonjour, ola, guten tag.
My name is David Casson, hence the title of the blog and I'm starting a blog. Well, I've already started a blog as you're reading it. I did have a past fling with this blogging lark, however the site where it was hosted started charging me obscene amounts of money so it unfortunately ended. So here I am again, a new page and a new agenda.
What is my new agenda?
Thank you for asking. Well my new agenda is to not have an agenda, at least to begin with. I have many interests, joys, dreams, worries and fears, so I guess I'll touch on all of these at some time or another. We'll just cruise along for a while and see where the current takes us hey?
Who am I?
Well I'm a 39 year old man, not too fat, not too thin. I still have brown hair atop of my bonce (head) so that's a plus. I'm about 6 foot tall with a darker than purest pale white skin which is quite amazing seeing as I'm from a mix of Cumbrian and Irish stock. I'm married to a wonderful woman called Catherine and we have an mostly adorable 11 month old little boy called Frederick.
I was born David Michael Casson on 10th June 1972. It was a Saturday and I came kicking and screaming in to the world at 6am, or so I'm told. I entered this world at Edgware General Hospital, now defunct I believe and spent my first year living with my folks, my elder bother, 2 sisters and dog at Sheeveshill Court, Colindale. We moved when I was a year old to 44 Brookfield Crescent in Mill Hill where we all lived at some point or another, adding to our brood with another son for nigh on 31 years. More on family, growing up and all that in later posts I think but for now, let me give you a little insight on my life now, what I'm up to etc.
As I said above, I'm married to Catherine. We've been married for 3 years and met 5 1/2 years ago. Last December we were blessed with our little boy Frederick. I must say that a lot of our time is spent looking after or recovering from looking after Fred. Those of you out there with kids will know just how completely knackering it is looking after kids, especially your first. It is definitely the hardest thing I've ever done. I should point out that it's also the best thing I've ever done. He's just a complete dream. We've watched him grow from a tiny prone,crying, jaundiced thing in to a 'chunky' (Catherine doesn't like that word when referring to our son), crawling at the speed of sound, increasingly independent eleven month old. He's in to every cupboard, drawer, CD and DVD case we have. He likes nothing more than pulling everything out of said cupboards and drawers, throwing everything in to a pile and then moving on to another one. He is a little monkey but he is our little monkey and we just adore him.
Ok. I guess that will do for my first post. I have no idea if anyone apart from me is going to read this mess but if you do and want to comment, feel free. I'll probably write more interesting stuff in future posts but everything has to have a beginning, an introduction and this is just that... an introduction.
My name is David Casson, hence the title of the blog and I'm starting a blog. Well, I've already started a blog as you're reading it. I did have a past fling with this blogging lark, however the site where it was hosted started charging me obscene amounts of money so it unfortunately ended. So here I am again, a new page and a new agenda.
What is my new agenda?
Thank you for asking. Well my new agenda is to not have an agenda, at least to begin with. I have many interests, joys, dreams, worries and fears, so I guess I'll touch on all of these at some time or another. We'll just cruise along for a while and see where the current takes us hey?
Who am I?
Well I'm a 39 year old man, not too fat, not too thin. I still have brown hair atop of my bonce (head) so that's a plus. I'm about 6 foot tall with a darker than purest pale white skin which is quite amazing seeing as I'm from a mix of Cumbrian and Irish stock. I'm married to a wonderful woman called Catherine and we have an mostly adorable 11 month old little boy called Frederick.
I was born David Michael Casson on 10th June 1972. It was a Saturday and I came kicking and screaming in to the world at 6am, or so I'm told. I entered this world at Edgware General Hospital, now defunct I believe and spent my first year living with my folks, my elder bother, 2 sisters and dog at Sheeveshill Court, Colindale. We moved when I was a year old to 44 Brookfield Crescent in Mill Hill where we all lived at some point or another, adding to our brood with another son for nigh on 31 years. More on family, growing up and all that in later posts I think but for now, let me give you a little insight on my life now, what I'm up to etc.
As I said above, I'm married to Catherine. We've been married for 3 years and met 5 1/2 years ago. Last December we were blessed with our little boy Frederick. I must say that a lot of our time is spent looking after or recovering from looking after Fred. Those of you out there with kids will know just how completely knackering it is looking after kids, especially your first. It is definitely the hardest thing I've ever done. I should point out that it's also the best thing I've ever done. He's just a complete dream. We've watched him grow from a tiny prone,crying, jaundiced thing in to a 'chunky' (Catherine doesn't like that word when referring to our son), crawling at the speed of sound, increasingly independent eleven month old. He's in to every cupboard, drawer, CD and DVD case we have. He likes nothing more than pulling everything out of said cupboards and drawers, throwing everything in to a pile and then moving on to another one. He is a little monkey but he is our little monkey and we just adore him.
Ok. I guess that will do for my first post. I have no idea if anyone apart from me is going to read this mess but if you do and want to comment, feel free. I'll probably write more interesting stuff in future posts but everything has to have a beginning, an introduction and this is just that... an introduction.
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