Hi everyone - it's SA's son here. A couple of days ago SA was out on his bike, riding along with a friend in the sunshine. They were chatting and laughing (probably property related!) when he had a heart attack. It was instant and we have been told he did not suffer, just cycled off into the sunset. He leaves behind his wife, who he met when he was 20 and she was 18. They spent 40 blissfully happy years together and raised myself and my younger brother in a loving home full of laughter. You would know her better as 'S' (I would like to think that the Trainee T was not based on me or my broth ..read more

'Got any comparables?' Asks Bomber the surveyor in his weasely voice. Of course I have. Not that you’ll take any notice of the similar homes to the one you are about to value, I’ve sold. ‘How recent are these?’ Ask the destructive building surveyor, as he looks with barely-disguised distain at the property particulars. ‘Only the market is slipping.’ In the background I can see T, my assistant manager, dancing up and down like some palsy-afflicted medieval madman, as he flicks twin v-signs at Bomber’s back, face contorted in hate. ‘All up to date.’ I answer. ‘And the price we’ve agreed on t ..read more

‘Oh for f**ks sake.' I exclaim angrily, hurling the phone handset down. ‘Problem?’ Asks idiot trainee F gormlessly.  No, I always shout expletives in the open office and incur another office swear-box fine, you numpty. I dislike January more than most months. The extra weight I’m carrying after the Christmas excesses, the dull, damp weather, the pressure to partake in Dry January and foreswear all alcohol, when all I want to do is drink - and swear. ‘The Patels buyer has pulled out.’ I finally tell F, head slowly shaking like a nodding toy dog, losing kinetic energy. ‘Why? They seemed ..read more

‘Is it me or is the music a bit loud?’ I holler at T, my assistant manager. We’re crammed against the free bar, where every spurious staff member, including weekend workers and new home site reps, are desperately multi-ordering drinks before the float runs out. It’s as shaming as the Brexit shambles. ‘You're just getting old.’ Shouts T, with a grin. ‘Let me buy you one and bring it over.’ He adds. That would be a first, I think fleetingly, until I realise he won’t be paying and by the time I offer to return the favour, I will. I’ve done too many staff Christmas parties. The music was diffe ..read more

‘The estate agent, right?’ Asks a familiar face, as I try to remain invisible on my trip to the sandwich shop. I see a lot of people, as I’ve said before, but it’s the homes I remember not the names. This guy I know I’ve met, but I can’t for the life of me remember when. He doesn’t look like a professional, too scruffy, so i’m guessing I haven’t lunched with him on a lawyer’s firm’s tab. ‘You don’t remember me do you? ‘ He presses, making me feel even more awkward, but not as awkward as a mate who was posed the same question by a familiar-looking woman in a supermarket a few years ago. The ..read more

‘Long time no see.’ Says a familiar face. I look up from my smartphone, like some vacant-eyed teenager. It’s the guy from the commercial agency, set of keys jangling. He used to be part of our organisation until it was floated off, surplus to requirements as it didn’t provide gullible mug-punters who’d sign up for over-priced insurance policies, that wouldn’t pay out. ‘How are things with you?’ I ask. It’s a knee-jerk question. I don’t really care and in any case I can see, the high street is littered with empty retail units, big commercial to let boards balanced overhead. The last time I s ..read more

‘Mrs Pendergast was in to see you.’ Says negotiator S, by way of a greeting. I visibly droop - not something I usually imagine where S is involved. She smiles sweetly at me and goes to get a cup of tea. God I’ll miss her when she eventually goes on maternity leave. ‘She’s coming back.’ Calls S, over a rolling kettle. ‘What for exactly?’ I say flatly. ‘She wants to know why the chain is taking so long to get to an exchange of contracts on her house.’ ‘She’s not alone.’ I call back. ‘Where’s she gone in the meantime?’ ‘Retail therapy.’ Says S, plonking a freshly-brewed mug of tea in front of ..read more

Hi everyone - it's SA's son here. A couple of days ago SA was out on his bike, riding along with a friend in the sunshine. They were chatting and laughing (probably property related!) when he had a heart attack. It was instant and we have been told he did not suffer, just cycled off into the sunset. He leaves behind his wife, who he met when he was 20 and she was 18. They spent 40 blissfully happy years together and raised myself and my younger brother in a loving home full of laughter. You would know her better as 'S' (I would like to think that the Trainee T was not based on me or my broth ..read more

‘Why am I coming along, boss?’ Asks trainee F, as we pull-up outside the neat, turn of the 20th century, terraced house. ‘To help measure up.’ I offer unconvincingly. Since they perfected digital tape measures by adding a laser pointer - early sonar-based efforts tended to tell you a small lounge was the size of the Albert Hall - there really is no need for someone to hold the end of a tape measure. ‘And you know it’s aways useful for more than one person in the office to have seen inside a house.’ I add hurriedly. F looks unconvinced. My statement is true but even F, with the intelligence ..read more

'Got any comparables?' Asks Bomber the surveyor in his weasely voice. Of course I have. Not that you’ll take any notice of the similar homes to the one you are about to value, I’ve sold. ‘How recent are these?’ Ask the destructive building surveyor, as he looks with barely-disguised distain at the property particulars. ‘Only the market is slipping.’ In the background I can see T, my assistant manager, dancing up and down like some palsy-afflicted medieval madman, as he flicks twin v-signs at Bomber’s back, face contorted in hate. ‘All up to date.’ I answer. ‘And the price we’ve agreed on t ..read more