Bloody Hell

At 4.30 this morning my mobile started to ring. After trying to answer Mom and Dad's landline, the alarm clock and Toby's stuffed bunny I remembered that my phone was charging on the other side of the room. By the time I stumbled over there it had stopped ringing. I checked the number and could see that it was a London number but didn't recognise it. Being the morbid person I am, my first thought was that it was the Met trying to call me because J had been in an accident. I immediately rang the number and was at first relieved to find that it was our estate agent. Later, I was not so relieved.

It seems that our buyers have pulled out. The guy was made redundant. Bugger. Bugger. Bugger. I have this terrible feeling that we're at the beginning of a very long and painful process.