Nothing ever goes to plan...
Well, I'm back from the north, complete with bloody-nosed terrier and first amongst a vast pile of letters awaiting my return is one from the lawyer telling me my offer on the plot of land has been accepted.
Hoorah, you cry. But no.
The acceptance of the offer came with a map. Now you think that I might have asked for the map before making the offer, but that's not how they do things in Ceredigion, no siree. Those of you who have waded through past blogs will know that I talked to a farmer named Mog and he hammered a couple of old fenceposts into his field marking out where the plots lay. Now it seems he has changed his mind. Or I've misunderstood him. Or the faeries have been at work.
To explain -there are three potential plots (or one decent sized one, but that's a rant for another time), running in a vaguely north-south line. The most southerly one is the best as it buts up to the edge of the planning line, so no one can build in the field to the south of it. The other two plots are roughly the same size and I thought I was getting the one in the middle. Not so, according to the map. I'm getting the northernmost one.
Given that all three of these plots combined would fit nicely into a carriage driving dressage arena (that's a posh unit of measurement - none of those football field thingies here), and they are all within a gnat's chuff of being the same size and orientation, it probably doesn't really matter which one I get. On the other hand, it's a jarring note of discord, the first no doubt of many that will dog this whole project.
What was I thinking? Build a house? Me?
Hoorah, you cry. But no.
The acceptance of the offer came with a map. Now you think that I might have asked for the map before making the offer, but that's not how they do things in Ceredigion, no siree. Those of you who have waded through past blogs will know that I talked to a farmer named Mog and he hammered a couple of old fenceposts into his field marking out where the plots lay. Now it seems he has changed his mind. Or I've misunderstood him. Or the faeries have been at work.
To explain -there are three potential plots (or one decent sized one, but that's a rant for another time), running in a vaguely north-south line. The most southerly one is the best as it buts up to the edge of the planning line, so no one can build in the field to the south of it. The other two plots are roughly the same size and I thought I was getting the one in the middle. Not so, according to the map. I'm getting the northernmost one.
Given that all three of these plots combined would fit nicely into a carriage driving dressage arena (that's a posh unit of measurement - none of those football field thingies here), and they are all within a gnat's chuff of being the same size and orientation, it probably doesn't really matter which one I get. On the other hand, it's a jarring note of discord, the first no doubt of many that will dog this whole project.
What was I thinking? Build a house? Me?
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