Today we went to meet up with Hannah, who was wanting to have a second look at a possible new home near Welles. Either it is getting late as I write this, or I really am going to have to do something about my memory (probably that!), but because Philip was driving, I can't even remember exactly where we went. It was interesting to see exactly what real estate people do (or don't do) over here from a professional point of view. (Not a lot it seems). Rosemary tells me they are not know as REAL estate agents ... just estate agents, evidently. And it is fascinating to see at first hand how 'gazzumping' works (it happened to Hannah in a previous attempt) and how uncertain things are until the 11th hour. Not the way I'm used to at all.
The lass who met us at the house is a 'local' who turns up and shows people around - she didn't appear to know very much but happily gave out very splendid brochures all round and said very little. I guess it worked a bit like PA's do at home - but I didn't quiz her on whether she had a licence etc so can't say. To be honest, I didn't let on about my past life and quite enjoyed being an appendage.
Time will tell the outcome I guess - but she seemed pretty interested and with 7 bedrooms PLUS a 2 bedroom coach house, I guess she had every reason to be.
En route, we passed the village where returning (dead) soldiers from Afghanistan landed, with the locals standing in respectful silence as the hearses passed by. Wootton Bassett. The location has recently been changed so that doesn't happen any more, but as a result, the village has been granted the right to use the word "Royal" before their name from now on. It's way out in the middle of nowhere - which makes their actions seem even more poignant, somehow.
Tomorrow is Remembrance Day here - red poppies etc. One of the radio stations this week has been interviewing mothers/wives of men who have died in service. As I was driving to Cirencester on Monday I heard one of the interviews and it's haunted me ever since ... the mother of a 19 year old ... telling about her son who had joined the army at the age of 17 and who was due home on leave only 10 days after he was killed (blown up by a land mine) two years ago. It was a pretty raw interview, with a very sympathetic interviewer, and it really brought home the awful sacrifices these families make.
They must be told, before they leave, to write a letter that they can leave for the family in case they don't return. When his body was returned, there was a letter from his buddy telling the family that he and the son had made a promise to each other that if one of them was killed, the other one would tell the family where to find the letter. As it happened, the mother said that the letter wasn't where he'd said it would be, and it took them several months to find it! However, his brother read it out at the close of the interview and I doubt there was a single dry eye in the country at the conclusion of the letter.
On that happy note I shall close!
The days are getting shorter - it's dark just after 5.00 pm now. It's reasonably mild - well, I'm not wearing thermals yet - and this is really the first week that it has been a bit bleak, overcast and misty. There are Christmas lights up in the pedestrian precinct here and I went into a shop yesterday that had a secular type Christmas song playing.
Only 50 days until 2012 - by which time I shall be home and you can stop reading these ramblings!
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