Today we met Victor, our landlord (or landlord by proxy – I’m not sure if he bought this house or his daughter , ‘she accountant’, did). We had a fence blow over in the storms this week so Victor came around to fix it and he must have been impressed by what he saw.
We were having a chat as he left, after I showed him a couple of things inside that had been caused by the house shifting, and he seemed very happy with how we looked after the inside and the garden. He’s good friends with our neighbours (“they good people, Checkoslovakian, have marry children”) who have given us glowing references, which obviously shows how deaf they are if they haven’t heard us yelling at Phee at least once in the one year and five days we’ve been here.
“You good people. You can stay as long as you want, 5, 10 years. No put up rent if you look after house.”
So we won’t have to move come May. We can settle in for a while, have a fixed budget rent-wise for the foreseeable future and can concentrate on making this rented house our home. It’s nice to know where Albert or Kennedy will coming home to.