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Unreal estate – 2

August 4, 2015 in Life in BC | Permalink

Canadian houseI have in the past eulogised the Canadian real estate market vis a vis that extant in the UK. Mind you – the operation of just about any other real estate market might seem preferable to the cack handed (and I write as a southpaw myself!) methodology that we must needs follow in England. Do please refer to this previous post on the subject for yet another example thereof. The truth of the matter is more probably that any other system appears superior to one’s own – until one experiences it first hand.

One of the definite benefits of the Canadian system is that the two realtors (estate agents) involved in the process actually have subtly different roles. Rather than visiting many different realtors in the search for a property one always works with the same concern who bring to the purchaser details of all suitable properties, whether or not they are listed with that realtor. If a sale is eventually agreed both realtors take a share of the commission. If nothing else, this means that one works with someone whom one knows and trusts and the immediate individuals involved always have one’s best interests at heart.

The second major benefit is that the basic contracts are drawn up by the realtors at the point of offer. Certain conditions may be applied – such as the outcome of a house inspection – but if the offer is accepted and the conditions are satisfied then the purchase is signed and sealed and there is no possibility of gazumping or of any other such devious practice.

There is – however – plenty that can go amiss up to that point. Herewith details of our own recent experience…

We had seen – before we left the UK – a property of which we liked the look. Our dear friends in Saanichton – with whom we are currently living – had even been for a visit and had given us a sneak preview via Facetime. Ah – the wonders of technology…

Once landed in the province we quickly organised a viewing in person and – having very much liked what we saw – further arranged a second such. Though the house was priced rather higher than we felt was merited we prepared an offer. At this juncture – however – the vendors’ realtor disclosed that there was already an offer on the table to which the vendors had not responded. We should have been informed of this before we made the second viewing, but the vendors’ realtor omitted so to do.

Given that no offer had yet been accepted we found ourself in an unpleasant ‘multiple-offer’ situation. The mechanism here seems to be that both prospective purchasers are informed of each other’s presence and invited to make their best offer. Neither party may know, however, what the other has – or has previously -offered and one must therefore make a wild stab in the dark.

We felt obliged to offer rather more than we had wished, but were told that the vendor would – in any case – make a counter-offer to our ‘opponents’ first. They -quite understandably – walked away at this point and the vendor then made a counter-offer to us.

It rapidly became clear that they really weren’t prepared to make much of a concession at all and several rounds of us upping our offer and them giving nothing away left us frustrated and angry. Our sole conclusion from this bizarre behaviour was that – in spite of having listed their property – they didn’t actually want to sell it at all.

At this point we also decided to back out but – after a number of further days of fruitless searching in what has become a sellers’ market – reluctantly settled on making one last attempt at this house with which we had become enamoured. We gave the vendors pretty much everything they wanted, only to be told that they had gone away for a week on their sail boat! Needless to say, The Girl was by now spitting tacks!

The vendors’ realtor suggested that – could we agree to a completion date of the end of October (some three months hence) – then a deal might be done. The vendors had clearly not yet themselves found a property to purchase and had no idea what to do.

At this point we did finally walk away. The vendors’ realtor was most apologetic concerning his clients’ strange behaviour, but at this point no parsnips were buttered – as the saying goes.

There is clearly – as with all such things – some meaning behind all of this emotional upheaval. We await with interest to see what it is.

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Unreal estate – 1

July 27, 2015 in Moving to Canada | Permalink

Inage from PixabayWhy is it that buying and selling property is such a difficult and complex business?

It is well-known fact that moving house is one of the most stressful experiences that one can face – along, of course, with giving birth and getting divorced (no connection!) – but unlike those (un)happy events, re-locating is more often than not done voluntarily – which almost makes it worse. It does seem strange that the long history of real estate dealing has not resulted in the sort of highly efficient hyper-streamlined operation into which most other transactions have evolved in this oh-so modern age.

The gentle reader of a regular habit will be all too aware that I wrote next to nothing about the eventual sale of our apartment in Buckinghamshire as it went through, for fear of jinxing the process. I had good reason for this. Though in the event the sale went through almost without hitch, it was still a nerve jangling experience.

For real estate deals in the UK the whole operation – once an offer has been accepted – is placed in the hand of the two sets of solicitors, one representing each party. The ensuing process – which involves getting surveys done, carrying out Land Registry and local authority searches to ensure that there are no impediments to the deal taking place, the filling out of endless disclosure and transfer forms and the signing of the eventual contract – can take anything from a few days to months and months, with the norm being apparently around eight to twelve weeks.

Unfortunately it is extremely difficult at any point to glean exactly what is going on or why it might be taking so long. One’s own solicitor might be a most helpful chap (and ours certainly was), but he is rarely keen to rattle the cage of his opposite number. We began to fear that our sale would not complete before we left for Canada, which would have rendered far more difficult the eventual extraction of the proceeds of the sale from the UK.

Once all of the particulars are in place and the financing agreed the next step is the exchange of contracts. These documents – which set in stone the agreed date and time for completion – will have been signed by the relevant parties before being swapped. At this point a healthy deposit is also paid by the purchasers as a means of dissuading them from dropping out at a late stage.

Finally – at the agreed date and time – the monies are paid and the deeds transferred to the new owner, who normally receives the keys from the sellers estate agent.

It seems to have become the practice these days for the purchaser to try to push back the exchange of contracts until almost immediately before completion, so that the period for which the deposit is held is as short as possible. Unfortunately this means that the seller has no guarantee right until the last possible moment that the sale will actually go through at the desired time. In our case we had agreed a completion date just over a week before our departure, but the exchange was repeatedly pushed back until it finally took place the day before completion.

Needless to say, we endured some restless nights worrying that we would leave for BC without the wherewithal to purchase a property in Victoria. As it turned out, of course, the funds appeared as we were expecting and were transferred almost immediately via our currency broker of choice (Moneycorp) to our Canadian bank.

 

In part two – we try to buy a house in BC.

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Heroes and villains

June 22, 2015 in Life as we know it | Permalink

skull-308551_640I’ve been in this town so long
So long to the city
I’m fit with the stuff
To ride in the rough
And sunny down snuff I’m alright
By the heroes and…

Van Dyke Parks, Brian Wilson

They say that you shouldn’t meet your heroes. Now – as it happens I have some small experience in this regard, having several decades ago been introduced to one of mine…

…and it turns out that ‘they’ are right.

Finding myself face to face with one of the most brilliant, erudite and talented playwrights working today (subsequently to be knighted for his services to the Theatre) I could think of nothing of any intelligence with which to engage him concerning the play that I had just experienced, instead merely burbling inanely some incoherence about his genius which probably embarrassed him as much as it did me.

Ouch!

Well – as part of what is quite clearly an ongoing education I now discover that one should not ‘meet‘ one’s villains either!

My antipathy towards the current Chancellor of the Exchequer will not come as news to those who have been subjected to the occasional political rants within these postings (examples – should you need them – here and here). Perhaps the most galling aspect – to my mind anyway – is that he is a Old Boy of the School. Given that he has, I am reliably informed, spoken in less than complimentary terms concerning his own schooldays it is perhaps mildly surprising that he has placed his son at the School.

Last week saw the final drama production of the school year. Long standing readers may recall that, two years ago, my own production of Parzifal featured in this slot. This year it was the turn of an excellently realised production of Beowulf featuring a cast of more than thirty – amongst which number was the aforementioned progeny.

Having volunteered my services Front of House on the Friday I almost inevitably found myself checking the ticket of the man himself. He had clearly brought his entire clan along to witness the adolescent’s senior school drama debut. To make matters worse he did not rush off afterwards, but joined the throng outside the Drama Centre in partaking of some liquid refreshment.

It is profoundly uncomfortable to find oneself sequestered for any period within a few yards of someone whose every public pronouncement incites one to near incandescent rage only to observe that, in close proximity, he is after all but a man – and one who is clearly extremely proud of his son. Yes – if one looked there were flashes of the arrogance, of the sense of entitlement, that have been so widely publicised (and criticised – not only by me!), but on another level this was simply a parent in an off-duty moment supporting his child…

…which is not at all how I want to think of him!

Bah!

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Ticking boxes

June 17, 2015 in Moving to Canada | Permalink

Image from PixabayThe antithesis of my love of language is a complete loathing for jargon in all its forms. This antipathy can manifest in different ways, from sitting in the back row at a product launch playing ‘Jargon Bingo‘* with colleagues, to getting into trouble at a high level meeting for snorting derisively and rather too publicly when one of the great and the good insisted that we must ‘get all of our ducks in a row‘. I won’t go so far as to claim that that faux pas cost me the job but I was gone from that worthy establishment within the year.

As you might imagine, ‘box ticking‘ registers fairly highly on the list of management-speak activities that sets my teeth on edge. Box ticking – however – is what the Kickass Canada Girl and I have been engaged in as we attempt to effect our egress from the country without forgetting anything important.

These things have we done in the past few days – in no particular order:

  • Cancelled the landline at our Berkshire apartment for our day of departure
  • Cancelled the broadband circuit at our Berkshire apartment for our day of departure
  • Ensured that we would not be liable to pay Council Tax on our Buckinghamshire apartment
  • Ensured that we would not be charged over the odds for gas and electricity at our Buckinghamshire apartment
  • Booked hotels for the nights between moving out of the Berkshire apartment and leaving for Victoria
  • Arranged an appointment with the bank to discuss our legacy financial arrangements in the UK
  • Spoken with Her Majesties Revenue and Customs (HMRC) to clarify how to get my tax coding changed after retirement
  • Responded to further queries from our purchasers solicitors regarding the sale of our Buckinghamshire apartment
  • Booked carpet cleaners for the Berkshire apartment subsequent to our moving out

This I have not done – though not for want of trying:

  • Cancelled my mobile (cell) phone contract. The contract actually runs until November 17th and would cost more to bail out of than to continue paying until then. However – it can only be cancelled by giving 30 days’ notice by phone, which means remembering to call Vodafone on or around 17th October – by which time we will of course be in Canada. Bah!

Still much to do!

 

* ‘Jargon Bingo’ appears usually to be called ‘Buzzword Bingo’ on the American continent. Same game!

jargon

Oh – I forgot ‘Brand Essence’…

Doh!

 

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One nation?

May 31, 2015 in Life in England | Permalink

Benjamin_Disraeli_by_Cornelius_Jabez_HughesI have – to this point – made no comment on the somewhat startling outcome of the recent UK general election. This is in part because – as I have stated before within the compass of these scribblings – this blog has no inclination to major on politics. It is also in rather greater part because the result was just so dashed depressing!

Actually – the further we travel from the election night itself the less truly startling the outcome appears, and the more all would seem to have been a dreary inevitability. Similar ballots involving Christmas and large birds of the genus Meleagris spring to mind… but then – I am hardly an impartial observer.

No matter. It is what it is – and I am in any case pretty much disqualified from judgement by my imminent departure to a different – though perhaps no more agreeable – political clime.

One thing – however – I can’t just let go…

I am appalled by the Tories’ post-election notion – courtesy of Cameron himself it would seem – to attempt to re-appropriate the ‘One Nation‘ soubriquet. Benjamin Disraeli (from whose 19th century novel, ‘Sybil‘, the term originates) truly believed in paternalism as a mechanism by which the poor and the needy should be offered support, and that it was the duty of those fortunate enough to have gained thereby to assist those who had lost out in the amoral jungle of the free market. Considerable social reforms were effected as a result during Disraeli’s terms in office.

This paternalism formed the basis of the Tories’ ideology – on and off – for a considerable stretch of its history until the New Conservatism – of which Thatcher was the flag bearer – swept it away during the 70s and 80s in favour of a belief in the unfettered power of the market to shape whatever actually existed of ‘society’.

You might expect me to raise at least two cheers for the return of the Tories to their former doctrine, and I might indeed be persuaded so to do were it not for the fact that – as in so many other things – this new direction is simply another cynical attempt to co-opt a meaningful philosophy (which actually has a track record) as some sort of promotional device for something lesser (which clearly does not!). This is nothing more than marketing and PR at its very worst.

Disraeli’s ‘One Nation‘ was intended to be just that. It was un-equal – certainly – but the intention was to care for the poorest and most destitute even if only by the largesse of their ‘betters’. Cameron’s nation – whichever ‘one‘ it might actually be – would certainly have been unrecognisable to Disraeli. It is – for example – apparently necessary to qualify to belong to it. There may indeed be welfare but only for the deserving – those who are ‘hard-working‘. This clearly excludes single mothers bringing up families – or the disabled who cannot work.

I could go on – but others have written on the subject with far greater lucidity than I could manage. This is The Observer’s editorial on the Queen’s Speech that opened the new session of parliament.

What perhaps galls the most is that the Tories have wasted not a second in setting in motion their campaigning for the next election – five whole years hence. No Tory is allowed to put in an appearance in any of the media without in-canting the party line on ‘One Nation‘ and ‘hard-working families‘. This is PR drivel of the highest order – presumably intending by endless repetition to hammer home the Tories’ ‘brand essence‘! Never have I been more relieved that I for one do not have to endure this farce.

What is worst of all is the sneaking feeling that just such cynical, patronising feculence very probably did help to win them the election just passed.

Doesn’t bear thinking about.

 

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Men at work?

May 16, 2015 in Life as we know it | Permalink

Image from PixabayIn around two months from now our tranter of choice – Bourne’s International Moves – will pitch up on the doorstep eager to crate up all of our precious goods and chattels for the bracing sea voyage around Cape Horn and on up the west coast of the Americas to Vancouver.

I am – of course – kidding! All our worldly possessions will in fact rather traverse the Panama Canal…

At least – I hope that is the plan!

The point is – big, scary things are about to transpire and pretty much everything that happens between now and the date of our departure is ineluctably bound up with the process. It is doubtless for such reasons that neither the Kickass Canada Girl nor I have much time nor patience for the minutiae and trivia of everyday life.

One such item of trivia – trivial at least as far as I was concerned – was the decision to schedule in the midst of the working week some apparently essential water mains restoration works across one of the roundabouts on the main arterial route into London that forms part of my daily pilgrimage to the School. This ‘work’ entailed the blocking of all bar one lane around this particular roundabout for three days – as far as one could tell without any concomitant commitment to actually turn up to carry out any form of labour – there being no sign of such on any of the occasions on which I struggled past the site.

This apparently careless arrangement added at least half an hour to my journey in each direction – resulting in my total in-car time rising to around four and a half hours each day!

Given that my working life has but seven weeks to run before I retire you might imagine just how dim a view I take of having to spend such an extensive proportion of it sitting in traffic.

I realise – of course – that those of you not approaching retirement may curl your lips disdainfully at the petty grumbles of one about so to do – and I do naturally sympathise… really I do!… but I find it increasingly difficult to maintain an appropriate sense of perspective as to the true import of the activities with which we fill our days.

Oh well! Thirty five working days – and counting!

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Cheating the noose

March 17, 2015 in Life as we know it | 2 comments

Photo by Andy Dawson Reid“If men can run the world, why can’t they stop wearing neckties. How intelligent is it to start the day by tying a little noose around your neck.”

Linda Ellerbee

I have on more than one occasion taken advantage of these postings to bemoan the fact that – at the commencement of the academic year in September – I must henceforth accoutre myself with that most offensive and pointless item of apparel – the necktie! I have – to be entirely fair – also used this forum to celebrate the most wonderful of work-days – usually at the point in May when the sun first puts in a proper appearance – on which the Surmaster of the School declares that Summer Dress may at last be worn, and the absurd adornment may thus be banished for an extended period until the summer is over and done with.

That this year will be – for the Kickass Canada Girl and I – like no other need hardly be mentioned. Apparently trivial circumstances would seem to be conspiring to make it even less so.

Yesterday – at morning break – the Surmaster announced to the Common Room that the School’s dress code – to which all pupils must adhere – was – by general consent – to be tightened up. We are not like our sister school, the which has no school uniform at all and whose dress code is apparently limited to the stricture – ‘no beachwear’! Our juniors do have a uniform and our senior boys must wear ‘smart business dress’.

This was not – however – the key part of the announcement. The Surmaster added that he would in future forego his right to declare that some random spring-like day in May should herald the advent of ‘Summer Dress’. In future such would be permitted for the whole of the summer term!

For me in particular this edict carries a special significance. When the Easter term has finally shuddered to a close – in just over a week’s time – I need no longer wear a tie – ever again!!

My whoop of delight from the back of the room at this particular pronouncement did not go unnoticed…

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Angel numbers

February 6, 2015 in Flotsam and Jetsam | Permalink

angel-297830_1280Idling perusing the WordPress dashboard after my last post a few days ago I was struck by the (mildly) interesting fact that I had apparently posted three hundred and thirty (333) scintillating missives since I started this blog in 2012.

Pleased by the symmetry of the digits (and being slightly smugly aware that as I have been blogging now for just over three years my average is one hundred and eleven (111) posts per year) I casually fired up Google and typed the number into the search box.

Blimey!

So – Angel Numbers! What’s that all about?

I’m actually not going to write anything myself on the topic at all. As you will see should you follow my (Google) lead the InterWebNet is quite full enough already of the weird and the wonderful – and amusing as it may all be I don’t feel the need to add to the canon. Should the number 333 hold some deeper fascination for you then you can read further here and here. If the whole notion of Angel Numbers causes bells to chime in your head then you should probably get help will doubtless find what you seek online. In spades!

Some people clearly make a living from this stuff… but since I somewhat carelessly launched myself into this strange other-world I am really in no position to cavil. Oh well!

Moving on…

 

This is – of course – post number 334!

 

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Shaking a stick

January 23, 2015 in Flotsam and Jetsam | Permalink

Black_and_White_Stick_BrokenMy attention was drawn to one of the more light-hearted items on a recent edition of Newnight. (For Canadians and others not resident in the UK, Newsnight is a daily BBC current affairs analysis programme). The piece concerned what was purported to have been the ‘must have’ gift of the Christmas season not long passed.

This oh-so desirable object – that which apparently appeared at the top of so many yuletide wish-lists – was… (wait for it…) – a stick!

To be precise – the ‘selfie stick’!

You might at this point suspect that you detect in my tone a hint of sarcasm. You would be right so to do.

OK – I am an old fart – but I just don’t get the whole notion of the ‘selfie’. It seems to have grown out of the seemingly instatiable desire with which some are afflicted, to record the fact of their presence wherever they may be on the planet. A few decades back the advent of the lightweight digital camera provided tourists and others with the ideal means of so doing, to the immense chagrin of the rest of us who actually prefer to interact with, or gaze in contemplation upon, the exciting new places that we are visiting. Travelling to the far corners of the globe to take picture of ourselves – rather than of those distant exotic locales – seems to me beyond the absurd.

I recall one visit to the Louvre some years back that was all but ruined for me by a hoard of tourists from another part of the globe. I wished only to stand in awe, drinking in the sensuous detail of the copy of the statue of the Three Graces. I was prevented from so doing by the endless procession of snap-happy subjects eager to have recorded their very presence in front of said marble icon – but facing away from it. I gave up and left.

The selfie itself (fnar!) was, of course, made possible by two further inventions – the camera equipped mobile phone and the means to upload the output thereof to the InterWebNet. By use of these tools the self(ie)-obsessed can not only record but also publish the fact of their presence anywhere upon the planet – at any point – within seconds!

The basic question, however, remains unanswered… Why?

For those who have not yet encountered this bizarely popular object, the ‘selfie stick’ is a pretty crude tool that allows one to hold one’s mobile phone at somewhat more than arms-length whilst snapping away. Presumably the intention is to enable one to include even more gurning idiots in the resultant snap than could otherwise be captured!

What bemuses me more than anything, though, is that most of the images that one sees thus presented are – to be quite frank – pretty poor! If I wanted to display simulacra of myself upon the InterWebNet (and I don’t – I really don’t!) – I would want them to be as flattering as they could be. Heck! – I’d hire a professional portrait photographer to make sure that I looked as good as is humanly possible!

But then – as I said – I clearly don’t get it…

 

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Two cheers…

January 20, 2015 in Life as we know it | Permalink

“The worst thing that can happen in a democracy – as well as in an individual’s life – is to become cynical about the future and lose hope.”

Hillary Clinton

DemocraciesTo mark the 750th anniversary of the first English parliament of elected representatives at Westminster (the de Montfort parliament which opened on 20th January 1265) the BBC has declared today to be ‘Democracy Day’. Given that democracy is a precious but fragile flower that requires careful nurturing I can only encourage the gentle reader to continue to exercise great care on its behalf – to ensure that the delicate bud does not wither on the branch through apathy or cynicism. Our democracies are far from perfect – but that should not prevent us from striving to make them so.

According to the Democracy Ranking Association there is little to choose between the UK and Canada in terms of world democracy rankings, with both countries lagging behind the Scandinavian nations – as has indeed long been the case. Do have a look at the Democracy Ranking Association website should you wish to know more about the criteria used for evaluation, or simply to gloat about your own nation’s position relative to others!

Rank Country Rank Change
13 United Kingdom -3
14 Canada -2

 

Clearly little room for complacency, but good to know nonetheless that both are well towards the top of the table.

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