Walking The Dogs

It takes quite a lot to make me incandescent with rage, but this morning Penyards estate agents Winchester office managed it, and maintained their efforts throughout the day. On 10th of this month a prospective new tenant was shown our flat. We had, as we were told we must, given two months notice. The following day I was asked if we would be prepared to leave on 31st, to enable the new tenant to move in. We agreed. After a number of phone calls it was agreed that we would move out on 31st and return on 1st April for the end of tenancy clean, the inventory check to take place on 2nd. I was told this had been put in an e-mail to me. This, of course, meant we had to change all our arrangements and would no longer have the whole month of April in which to transport our belongings and leave the place in good order. We would also save one month’s rent.
I never got the alleged e-mail. What we did receive, this morning, was a letter dated 13th, stating that the new date was ‘Subject to Contract and References for new tenancy’. At no time during the telephone conversations which fixed the departure date was any reference made to this proviso. 
Immediately upon its receipt, I left a message for the person whose name appeared at the foot of the letter. I was told she was on the telephone and would be asked to ring me straight back. She didn’t. This afternoon I asked to speak to the boss. He was in a meeting. I left a message for him. Later I received a call from the person with whom the new date had been agreed. The boss was now two and a half hours away. She claimed to have told me that it would be subject to the new tenancy contract. I was clear she hadn’t, and for good measure added that she had told me first of all that she had sent an e-mail detailing the new agreement, and that when I said I hadn’t received it she promised to send a copy. I said she hadn’t done either. She took  ‘personal responsibility’ for assuring me that I would receive a call by the end of the day. Needless to say, the call never came.
Whilst waiting for the first promised response I took a walk to the village shop, returning via the church path, The Splash, and Furzey Gardens.

Even on an overcast day, I was intrigued by the muted colours of the treescape from Seamans Corner.

Seeing two small terriers dragging a woman on the ends of their leads down through Minstead, I quipped that it was difficult to know who was taking who for a walk. This began a pleasant conversation with a couple who moved to the village ten months ago and were greatly enjoying it. They were dog-sitting for a brother.

What I now realise is a family of donkeys were relaxing by the roadside on the way up from The Splash.
This afternoon we made up five large storage boxes and filled two of them. Neither of us felt much like doing it after the agent’s performance.
Fish and chips, mushy peas, gherkins, and pickled onions were what we had for dinner. I drank a little more of the rioja.