One Of These Days

Now that the house in Oldham is all but sold we're thinking more seriously about buying a place in Hastings. We visited a couple of estate agents yesterday to find out what they had on offer. "How much do you have to spend?" They asked. We named what we thought a modest sum- and they proceeded to show us properties that were considerably larger and grander than we want. "No," we kept saying, "Fewer rooms. Less of a garden."

In conclusion: Hastings is cheap.

What we really, really want is the ground floor of an early 19th century town house with a view of the sea. I was thinking that would be out of our price range, but it appears not. "You'd like really modern?" the salesman said- because I suppose that's what his elderly clients mostly demand. And we couldn't get it through to him that we wanted old, we wanted characterful, we wanted a front door through which coffins have passed.

There's a cafe just across the road from the beach where we had afternoon tea last time we were in town. This time we had lunch. The proprietor grilled me a couple of fresh mackerel (heads still attached) and served them on a bed of salsa. How splendid to live in a town with a fishing fleet!

A Rethink

But then again maybe we should move sooner rather than later and take my mother with us.

A woman who spends her days shuttling between the dinner table and her chair in front of the telly- and doesn't want to venture further- really has no use or need for the many acres she's sitting on here. She could be just as happy in a smaller property by the seaside, couldn't she?

Alright, if she's coming with us it would make sense to go for a bungalow, but I can compromise on the period fittings and ghosts...