My Best Friend left the UK about 10 or so years ago to live and work in Barcelona. We met when we were 16 working in a local shoe shop, and became friends every rapidly. From 16 – 18 we would meet pretty much most weekends and talk endlessly about films, books, people etc. He went out with a girl that I had quite liked at work, but we were firm friends by that point so it didn’t matter to me (much). We then went to university and he came out that he was gay. After getting over the shock of the fact that he swore he never fancied me (and he was having a better time than I was being straight!) we continued meeting up and talking endlessly. Until that is he went to Barcelona when our opportunities to meet are much less, but when we do it is still like old times. I still treat is family as my surrogate family as they are all really nice, and my family love him.
So what does this have to do with houses?
Well I was going to go over and help him celebrate his birthday, but due to the fact we were in the process of buying the Victorian Pile, I felt that I would have to sacrifice a night out in Barcelona as it would cost something approaching a sash-window. Hence I wrote a very apologetic e-mail saying that I would not be able to make it.
I felt very very guilty. We did not see each other much, and here was I saying that a sash-window was more to me than our friendship?
He e-mailed me back to say it was fine – not a problem as he knew I had a busy life with wife and two children etc. But he was having coming back to his mothers last weekend and having a BBQ with his family. Did I want to come over? Of course the answer was yes.
So we turn up to the house where I spent many a night on their sofa, and had watched countless films etc. Was lovely seeing him and his family. He of course asked about the house. So I showed them the estate agents details. My friend wanted me to show all his family (and neighbours who has been invited as well) as he thought the house was fantastic.
What was truly touching was the response: everyone knew that it was a big decision (I am moving the family away as well) but they were all supportive and could see why we were doing it and wished us luck. I could bask in the fact that the house we are in the process of buying is really lovely. Fantastic. Grand. Brilliant. And for an evening I could enjoy the fact that The Victorian Pile is one of a kind, and that all the worries about the survey, mortgage, work, money, sash windows, moving, schooling, chimneys, moving away from friends could, just for once be just a background noise.