Back to the Fourth World; househunting

I'm writing this long after the event, so the key parts stand out.

For the flight in, the heather was still fantastic, the shot shows the area around Hamsterly, between Weardale and Teesdale in the North Pennines. Once on the ground the reality began to sink in.

The airport announcements were in the un-intelligable local lingo (Geordie) and the number of people in traditional local costume (baseball cap, peroxide blonde hair and pink shell suit), made it clear that we were a long way from any form of civilization.

Our lift was on time (and, no jokes, in a Bently) and by mid morning we were running the gauntlet of speed cameras, in an aging Subaru, with leather seats and wobbly steering.

The weather was crap, and only deteriorated after we took our last breath of un-polluted air and crossed the border into enemy territory.

We stopped for some (fresh vegetable free) lunch, north of Jedburough. Patty, who'd been asleep most of the way, complained that she coudn't understand the natives speaking. I re-assured her that understanding what they were saying would be the least of her problems.

On to Edinburgh, and found a hideously expensive B+B with a creepy owner (he wouldn't be out of place in "League of Gentlemen", or "Little Britain"), but it didn't matter, we were knackered so we took the room and went straight to sleep.

What happened over the next few days was worse than we had been expecting, I know looking for rental accomodation with 11 animals in tow is not the easiest, but;

Virtually everyone whose job it was to help us did the oposite, they wasted our time. That goes for estate agents, the people on the accomodation office front desk at the university, rental agents etc.

The people who were helpful were ordinary local people who we asked when we got the chance, bar maids, local farmers, the Post master at West Linton, the lady who produces the parish magazine in Carlops, The owners of the Silver Witches Cattery at Auchindinny....

Of the ones whose job it was to be helpful, Anna, the Factor and Lady Dalmeny at Roseberry estate, I think stand out almost alone.

After a weekend back home we got a call from a really nice couple whom we visited on the monday, and slept in their little cottage that night. It was ideal, forestry on one side, bog on the other and at the end of a dead end lane, with about a mile to the main road.

So, we made a quick trip down to get a flight to dublin, missed it, and payed over the odds for one the next day.

Made the mistake of calling at the office on the way home and ended up spending about 3 hours there, oh well.