Our flat went on sale last week.
Finally, after filling in endless forms and draft brochures going back and forth for revision and correction (you won’t be surprised to learn that I couldn’t resist editing the English translation), the flat went on the market on Friday. We’d had the for sale sign propped up on the windowsill for more than a week but until it went up on the outside of the building it wouldn’t be real.
By Monday, the first viewing had taken place and another 5 people were clamouring for appointments.
Over here, unlike in the UK, the owner is advised to make themselves scarce when prospective buyers turn up. So we went out in the rain to while away an hour or so and get ourselves some lunch. We played at being tourists, sitting in the Hard Rock Café and tried not to talk about it, tried not to even think that the first set of viewings would yield any interest. It’s a really strange feeling to know that people are in your home, assessing it, making decisions about it, yet there is nothing you can do to influence the outcomes, and you have no idea how it’s going. Will the agent remember to show them the roof garden (when I first saw the flat, he forgot it existed?. Will he remember to turn on the kitchen lights, and emphasise that the messy floor in the entrance hall will be repaired as soon as the building insurers pay up?
We wandered home slowly, knowing the agent would phone, but not even talking about it, not admitting that we hoped smething would happen before we leave Amsterdam at the end of this week. Realistically, we knew it wouldn’t but that doesn’t stop hope creeping in. But as we rounded the corner and saw the for sale sign, tacked on the window, we knew that at least it was real.
Amazingly, by 5 pm we had one firm offer and another possible. By noon the next day, less than 24 hours after that sign went up, the sale was agreed.
Now the zone of calm I’ve been living is has been pierced by a wheel of action and there is so much to arrange. Yesterday we had get our names off the Amsterdam register, giving us proof that we are leaving the country so that our health insurance and internet connection will be cancelled (everyone else took our word for it). Today the removal company arrives to poke aorund and quote for the removal. There are inventories and lists to make, packing to start, and my work leaving party this evening.
There are still some friends to meet one last time to say goodbye. So much to do, but things are moving fast.
