The Wanderlust Lady and the Door to Door Salesman - 37

March 9, 2013
 

Saturday I slept in, and really felt like I deserved the rest. But then, I got up and went
up to the attic, and brought down another bag of silver bits and pieces. I thought that even though these were many more in number, they would weigh less in total than the last bunch. There were salt and peppers, picture frames, a mug, some egg cups, and ink pot and some bon bon dishes – little things like that. I wrapped each carefully in newspaper, and put them in a carrier bag.

I think the silver man was beginning to look forward to my visits, and he smiled and
asked how life was treating me before we got down to business.

“The scales show 800 grams,” he said.

“I thought it was a bit less than last time,” I added.

“So that makes it about £400 this time.”

“That sounds fair,” I said, and he counted out the cash into my hand.

“Have you got any more?”

“Only cutlery. I'll bring that in next time.”

“I'm not interested in silver plate,” he said.

“It's a mixture, and I'm not sure what is what, so I'll bring it all in and let you have a look,.”

He smiled encouragingly and with that I left his shop. As I hadn't bought the oil base paint for the windows and door, I went into my friend Tom's shop which was more or less next door. He sold me a two litre of white undercoat and the same of gloss. As I was pretty heavily laden, I decided to give the bank a miss for the time being, but my cut for
this lot of silver would be £80.

I made my way home, and put the paint in an empty cupboard in the kitchen, just in case we had visitors viewing the house later. Nobody had rung up to say that was the case, but I thought it was better to always think it likely to happen, and then there would be no panic if they wanted to come and I wasn't in a position to do a quick tidy.

I decided that as I needed some groceries anyway, I'd make another trip into town and
call in at the estate agents en route.

“Hello,” I said to the woman sitting nearest the door.

“Are you looking to buy a house?” she asked.

“No, I'm house sitting for somebody whose house you're selling,” I said.

“Which one?”

“16 Oak Lane. Somebody came to view it on Thursday. I just wondered if you know
how the viewing went.”

“Oh yes. I took them around. It was a young couple who had nothing to sell – but
they seemed to think it was pretty expensive, given that there was a lot that needed doing to it. So I don't think they'll be making an offer.”

“Thanks. Have you had many people enquiring about it?”

“The usual dozen or so who get details about everything new that comes on the market.
But nobody else who has expressed an interest in viewing yet. But it's early days.”

“I should be in today and tomorrow during the day, in case there is any interest.”

“Oh that’s useful. We can't really go out to show houses on the weekend, due to
being so few of us in the office.”

“Right, well I'll be home in half an hour, so give me a ring if anybody is interested.”

“Thanks, I will. Bye now.”

“Bye.”

I dropped the money off at the bank, and got my groceries from the Co-op and made my way down the rough road to my house. I kind of selfishly hoped nobody would buy it, because it meant I could keep on living there, and then maybe Fred would have a chance to get it.

Once I got home again, and settled down, I was a bit lost. After being so busy all
week, now that things were pretty much as I wanted them, I didn't know how to cope with my leisure. But I still had a few things to deal with. One was getting rid of the bed from the attic. I expected the same problem to happen when I tried to get rid of the rest of the
furniture. Nobody wanted old worn out beds.

The other bit of furniture that I needed to investigate was the trunk. I had no idea
why it should be considered valuable – but that second hand dealer offered me £100 for it – which mean it had to be worth more than twice that. So since my phone allowed me to search, I decided to google it.

Well, here's a bit of luck. A place called Gumtree says they will do free removal of
beds, as long a they aren't rubbish – which these aren't. And they have a Stockport depot. I think I'll wait with ringing them until all the house is sold – and I've seen how much of the other items I can sell.

As far as trunks go – they seem to alternate from really cheap to rather pricey –
depending on the age and size and type of wood, and amount of decoration. Mine is pretty plain with just some banding with metal tabs. I have no idea what type of wood it is – although it is dark wood, but that might just be due to its age. The most expensive ones
were getting on for £400 – but they were made of teak. The average price for the others was about £120, some less, some more. But the advert was about selling trunks and didn't mention buying them. I think perhaps this is the sort of thing that a local antique dealer
might be useful for, as they could pick it up as well as pay for it. I'd gone to the Marple Bridge antique shop when I lived here before, and copied their phone number. If nobody wanted the bookcase, that might also be something that they would want. And I didn't know but what the table and chairs might be of some value too, to an antique dealer.

I had done my research and was about to look for another job when the phone rang.
It was the estate agent. “Someone has come in whose interested in viewing the house. Can they come right over?”

“Yes,” I said, and was pleased to have the distraction for the rest of the day.

She arrived about 20 minutes later. Luckily I'd kept the house looking as tidy as it
could. She was middle aged and not the sort of person I would have expected to want a house like this.

“Hello,” I said, opening the door for her.

“Hello. Thanks for showing me around on such short notice.”

“No problem. Shall we start here,” and I showed her into the dining room, which looked pretty good in the bright sunshine.

“Right,” she said. So we moved on. “This is the living room.”

“It's nice and bright. I like the white paint.”

“I did that,” I said. “I don't own the house but I'm living here at the request of the owners until it's sold.”

We went back into the front hall and I showed her the kitchen. “This would need
redoing,” she said straight away. We then went into the bedroom and bathroom and she didn't really comment, but I could see she wasn't very impressed. “Do you want to see the attic space?”

“What's it like?”

“It was used as a sort of make shift bedroom, and has a floor and velux window. But no
ceiling and no heating or electricity. But it could be made into a proper room without too much of a problem.”

“Maybe for you, but not for me,” she said, and decided that she didn't want to bother going up the pull down ladder.

“I know it's none of my business, but are you looking for an investment or someplace to live yourself?”

“Both really. I'm a widow so there's just me, but I wouldn't want to live in a place as
basic as this is, so I'd need it to be completely redone – and that means a lot of extra money spending. I haven't sold my house yet anyway, so I can only speculate about what I might or might not want to buy.”

“If it was done up nicely, you'd be interested then?”

“Yes, it's a nice neighbourhood. I would prefer something with a view – but you don't
often get those in a bungalow, and I do want a downstairs bedroom and bathroom. And ideally I'd like a proper extra bedroom for when I have company to stay. ”

“Well, maybe somebody else will buy it, do it up, and then when its on the market again, it will suit you.”

“You may well be right. But for the time being, I'll just keep on looking. Thanks for
your time.” And she left without taking any notice of the garden. She wasn't going to buy it, that was for sure.

After she left, I decided I'd update Mrs. Mills on the situation. She was pleased to
hear that there had been two viewings already – but I told her not to count on either of them. I also relayed the information the lady from the estate agent had told me about the ones who came on Thursday.

I told her that I had sold another lot of silver for £400 and had one bag full left to
take down.

“And what about the gold?” she asked.

“I expect to hear about that any day. I sent it off to one of those companies who
advertise so much about Gold for Cash – they sent me a bag to send it off in. I was expecting to have heard back from them by now.”

I could hardly tell her that they had been more efficient when I'd used them before.

Saturday night was my usual time at the Navigation, and I was beginning to make friends with the regulars who went there. I was looking forward to it more than usual this week, as I'd met a rather special girl there a week ago, although we hadn't done more than smile at each other and exchange names. But if I played my cards right, maybe she'd be there again tonight and I'd be able to make a date maybe for tomorrow night. I'd seen a good film advertised for the Cineworld in Stockport. And with six films to choose from, chances are there would be one that she might like to see.

I spruced myself up and whistled as I made my way to the pub.