Well, Tan,Angie
and the kids have moved out. They’ve been renting our next door house for 6 and
a half years and it’s the end of an era.
It was back
around November time when Tan sold his house in London
In an
effort not to appear over keen to replace them with new tenants, I waited until
they gave me the keys back and then put details of the house on AngloInfo, our
local web site for people who want to buy things, rent things and look for
tradesmen.
I was
inundated with replies with several people showing interest and quite a few wanting
to view. One guy even said he would be flying his wife over from London
And then a
young French couple phoned me. They hadn’t seen the advert on AngloInfo but had
heard at the school gates that Tan and Angie were moving and so came round to
view on the Saturday, only a few days after Tan and his family had moved out.
Now, I’d always
said I would not rent, or even sell to French people. It might sound slightly,
or even, overtly zenophobic but I’d heard that French people can be extremely
difficult to deal with, indeed, there are numerous stories about their zeal to
sue, make things difficult and generally cause trouble if there is the
slightest problem, but this couple seemed nice, reasonable, and the fact that Delphine
would look amazing in a bikini sunning herself by the pool, had absolutely no
influence on my decision and so after a quick tour of the house they said it
seemed to meet their expectations and would be in touch.. The following day,
the Sunday, they re-appeared and after another tour of the house they said they
would take it – it was ideal for their requirements.
I was, of
course delighted. To rent the house only a few days after Tan and Angie had
moved out was a real bonus and so we shook on the deal. Eric, the husband, then
said, ‘real Frenchmen don’t shake hands on a deal, we look each other in the eyes’,
and that’s what we did. Eric then requested that I move all the furniture out
of the house as he wanted it completely empty. In response I said I would take
the house off the market, do a few things to the house and would be pleased to
welcome them next door.
Then I had
the difficult job of calling prospective viewers and telling them the house had
been rented, specifically the Glaswegian guy who had flown his wife in to view
it on the Monday. It was not a nice call to make but he understood and was
gracious in defeat.
Over the
next week or so, I replaced the oven and even fitted a new hot water boiler
(that’s another story), moved all the furniture out and renovated both
bathrooms and tidied up the garden. The house was looking amazing if I say so
myself.
And so in
the week I was expecting Eric and Delphine to move in, I got a call from them
saying they’d seen another house and had chosen that one and wouldn’t be moving
in after all.
If I had
been able to reach down the phone and grab them by the throat I would have
done. In the end, I simply cut them off and refused to take their calls. I was
spitting blood.
Now I know
that circumstances change and they might have found a better, cheaper, more appropriate
house, but to stand there and request that we look each other in the eyes as we
shook on the deal, and then pull out knowing I would now have to re-advertise
and had lost a month’s rent was beyond even my widely acknowledged levels of
patience.
And so,
sadly, my faith in human nature has been restored. I WILL NOT RENT TO FRENCH
people. No way!
The lesson
was that I should have taken a cheque as deposit but cheques can be easily
cancelled and I would not have been in any position to reclaim the money so I
am now re-advertising the house in the forlorn hope that the Glaswegian guy
will renew his interest.
C’east la
vie and as I’ve said many times before, France
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