It was advertised as a 2 bedroom cottage and the photograph’s made the place look good. An wood burning fire in a small living room, a modern kitchen, the main bedroom looked big enough to have pillow fights and play hide and seek and the bathroom was a clean white space.
Our viewing was arranged for Saturday at 11.45am by the landlord himself. He did want to meet us at 12pm but Anthony had a football game to play so 11:45am was perfect. We drove in separate cars from Lammack to Lower Darwen and parked up on a nearby estate. Knocking on the wooden front door I had severe butterflies. This could potentially be our first home together.
We knocked and knocked but no one was answering the door. The door was locked. By this time it was 11:52am so I rang the mobile number of the landlord which rang 3 times then cut off. Strange. I tried again, and again it rang a couple of times then cut off? What the hell? Third time lucky the landlord answered abruptly.
“You didn’t bother to answer your phone, I’ve been waiting her since 11:40am and I ain’t waiting around for nobody.” BANG. The line cut off.
I couldn’t believe what had just happened. Eyes full of tears, I tried to tell Anthony what the hell had just happened. I rang the estate agents up in utter shock and told the understanding worker the story. I mean, 7 minutes of lateness is nothing!
… And so the bad luck continues.