Sorry, no trip-tastic nod to Thompson or Depp, and we’re certainly not snorting meths while road-tripping from Aldershot to Woking. No, sadly I mean the title quite literally. I loath waiting for the results of my credit check for the new flat and I fear that the reason it’s taken 72 hours so far, instead of the 48 hours we were promised, is that we’re going to fail with flying colours.
I’m really quite nervous and anxious. I’m not sure if I want to be put out of my misery and get it over with so I can decide on alternative measures, or if I want it to drag out in the hope it means that everything will be okay. In theory we could be signing a contract tomorrow. In practice, however, we’re no better off than we were before we started looking, other than a faint glimmer of hope.
“Hope deceives more men than cunning does.”, Vauvenargues, 1746