As you might recall (you might not, you might have had your memory wiped) we’re in the process of selling our house. And, stone me, if we don’t appear to have sold it. Despite my best attempts to offend the people who have eventually agreed to buy it.
It was a very simple mistake.
The buyers arrived at the door – woman, child and man. As the woman was the person I had been told was buying she came in first and put out her hand to shake – which I did. The 11 year old boy then followed, so in the jovial/borderline psychotic manner I’ve developed with viewers, I thrust out my hand to him and said rather loudly “I’ll shake everyone by the hand”.
So by the time the man had got in the door I already had my right arm extended for a good old manly handshake, a gesture derived from showing one’s hand didn’t contain a weapon, a sign of ‘I’m pleased to meet you sir, this is what men do’.
That’s when I spotted he only had one arm, and it wasn’t the one I was extending my welcoming hand towards.
Thankfully the chap must be used to it and turned his left arm round to shake me as if it was his right. But as far as first impressions of a house go, I might as well have opened the door smeared in marmite with a swastika emblazoned t-shirt speaking only in binary.
Anyway, it all seems to have amounted to nothing as they went and put an offer in a few days later and we’re now well on the way down the process. Honestly, if I’d know this I’d have been more offensive to people from the start.
Whilst we can’t wait to move into a new house, you always end up thinking about some of the great/bizarre times you’ve had in places you’ve lived. Such as these:
2 Winstone Avenue Torquay (1986ish)
We lived there from when I was 6-13 and was woken up by the milkman one morning. By that, I mean we woke up to find a milkfloat upside down on the garden, having crashed through our back fence. It even sat there with a comedy ‘spinning wheel’. It could only have been better if a Rice Krispies plane had crashed landed there too, followed by a light shower of sugar.
41 Park Road Torquay (1996)
My brother went home from a night out early and when I got home, he’d left the key in the lock meaning I couldn’t get in. So, after 4-5 pints, I thought the best thing to do was climb onto a wall in the backgarden, make my way across the flat roof, through the 2ft wide gap with the neighbours house and in through a conservatory window. Yes, I was a lot thinner back then. And spiderman apparently.
10 Reansway Square Wolverhampton (1998)
A rented house with no central heating or shower, which meant you had to have 15 second baths in the morning or you would die of the cold. And in the winter I recall sleeping in full football kit, tracksuit, scarf and hat to avoid death by chilliness. For some reason I wore the shinpads as well.
250 Renton Road Wolverhampton (2000)
I rented a room in a house with two cats, one with three legs. The best bit, arranging a music festival themed party called T2000 (like V you see) and issuing everyone with laminated passes on a piece of string so they could wear it like a festival pass. I made two mini versions with ‘access all areas’ on and had the cats wear them. They were the talking point of the party – apart from girl crying and being sick on the stairs of course.
10 Albany View Stainland (2004)
Despite sounding like the world’s worst theme park, living in Stainland was brilliant. It was a converted mill and the top flat I lived in was totally open plan with a ladder leading to the upper main bedroom. I had three walk in wardrobes up there that were so big, you could sleep in. And that’s exactly what my mate Daive did. We woke up one morning from a heavy night of indie partying to find him totally absent from the flat, until the door to the wardrobe swung open to reveal him and his sleeping bag. Bless.
There. You wouldn’t have had all that on Through the Keyhole.
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