Raul Estate
I bought a house from a man called Raúl. He was a bit of a wanker, truth be told, but he had the house and I had the mortgage, and wankerhood aside, the deal was a good dead. It took a dreadfully long time though, lots of messing about, to and fro, what have you, whatnot and this and that. Now I’m an owner-occupier and Raúl is still a wanker.
I reckon it took about three months from us agreeing the price to the final signature on the theoretical dotted line. There was no dotted line, just a wide open space at the end of the lengthy incomprehensible title deed. Space enough for the Notary to map out his elaborate muddle of lines and angles – the over-complex fussy signature that allows him to charge (a) an arm, and (b) a leg.
I should add that we were living in the house anyway – renting it. From Raúl. The wanker. (See above). This meant that it didn’t feel like a big deal. It didn’t sit ringing in the mind like An Event, it was rather dulled, rather mundane. I didn’t know how it would feel really, I didn’t expect it to have the emotional knocking-for-six power of the birth of my kids, or my wedding – but I thought it might compare with the elation of getting my job.
That was a tough old time. I was in terrible straits, business struggling, debt looming and lots of dead ends. Then I got a fantastic job – not quite out the blue, but damn close. That felt really good. It was scary though. Scary because I knew I had to make it and if I failed I would be absolutely completely and utterly totally Fucked. With luck and a fair wind, I didn’t fail – buying the house didn’t even come up to the kneecaps of that electric feeling. I thought it might have done.
Now I have a house, I need to create a home. Sounds like fun, but there’s a lot of DIY hidden sneakily into that short sentence. I can feel the clicky hangs already.
So, it was an anti-climax really. Important and essential, but in the end routine. The best part is that that wanker Raúl is out my life, and at least that part feels damn jolly good.
Well you’re the king of the castle now. It’s your house and you can do what you want to it. It will be fun. Congratulations and warmest blessing on your new home.
earthpal
September 26, 2009 at 08:34
Lovely piece of writing, Z. And congrats on your Raul-free life…
nmj
September 26, 2009 at 11:48
EP, I am indeed king of my rather snazzy castle and I have just done what I wanted with it – I have built drawers and shelves inside the wardrobe. I say I did what I want, I did what was wanted of me. That’s the same. That’s the same as being the King.
NMJ, thanks, nice to see you here again, we miss you.
zhisou
September 26, 2009 at 19:11
Hey Zoo
Well done you. I remember how scary any kind of financial negotiations can be in Spain.
xxx
Pants
Pants
September 27, 2009 at 11:04
Hey Pants, nice to see you here. Thanks for calling round and saying hey.
zhisou
September 27, 2009 at 19:13
Congratulations, Zhisou! Perhaps the bigger things are the ones choosing how they enter our lives – either with the knock-down power of births and weddings, or with the silent, inexorable strength of roots breaking through rock.
(Though, heehee, I did do a double take when you wrote ‘the deal was a good dead’. A good deal? A good deed? As good as dead? FUNNY!)
Pippa
October 1, 2009 at 08:48
Congratulations, Zhisou. Enjoy your new life.
Jose
October 1, 2009 at 13:46
Thanks Pippa, the amount of DIY on my radar has taken the edge off it a little.
The good dead/deal was a humble typo only – I’m not that clever.
Jose, thanks – it’s wonderful to feel settled at long last. So many years of wanderlust, now just really appreciating being in one place.
zhisou
October 2, 2009 at 16:41
Brilliantly written.
tyger
October 11, 2009 at 20:49
Thanks tyger.
zhisou
October 12, 2009 at 09:21